y* 


THE  SYLVESTER  QUARRY. 


THE 


Sylvester  Quarry: 

Sequel  to 
"Over  at   Little  Acorns." 


BY 


ELISABETH  OLMIS, 


Author  of  "Jack's   Hymn,"  "Over  at  Little  Acorns,"  ''Theodora,"  and 
Other  Stories. 


RICHMOND,  VA.: 
THE  PRESBYTKRIANT  COMMITTEE  OF  PUBLICATION. 


COPYRIGHTED 

BY 

JAS.  K.  HAZEN,  Secretary  of  Publication. 
1901. 


PRINTED  BY 

WHITTET  &  SHEPPERSON, 
RICHMOND,  VA. 


IN  LOVING  MEMORY 
OF 

my  father. 


2228423 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 
CHAPTER  I. 

OLD  FRIENDS,  .....  7 

CHAPTER  11. 

AT  LITTLE  ACORNS,  .         .  17 

CHAPTER  III. 
BERDEL,  .....  31 

CHAPTER  IV. 
AN  EVENING  CALL,    ...  43 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  PROBLEM,          ...  54 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A  MORNING  RIDE,     ...  gg 

CHAPTER  VII. 
AT  THE  VANDYNE  COTTAGE,        .         .  82 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  SPICED  CURRANTS,      .         .  103 

CHAPTER  IX. 
A  QUIET  HOUR,         ...  123 


4  Contents, 

CHAPTER  X.  PAGE. 

SOME  BITS  OF  TALK,          .....     133 

CHAPTER  XL 
ANDY'S  WORK,  .         .         .         .         .         .149 

CHAPTER  XII 

ROSE  PETALS,  .         .         .         .         .         .         .158 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  SORRY  TIME,          .         .  .171 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
DOWN  THE  MOUNTAIN  SIDE,        .         .         .         .191 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  LETTER,       .  .     200 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
GARET,    .  ...  .218 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
TEMPTATION,    .......     232 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
A  DECISION,     ....  .         .     247 

CHAPTER  XIX, 
VARIOUS  THINGS, 261 

CHAPTER  XX. 
A  CREEPING  SHADOW,        ...  .     284 


Contents.  5 

CHAPTER  XXI.  PAGE. 

IN  THE  CHAPEL,         ......     301 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
HOPES  AND  FEARS,    .         .         .         .         .         .     319 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
ANDY'S  GUEST,  ....  .     343 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
A  WOODCHOPPER,      ...  .361 

CHAPTER   XXV. 

VISITORS  AT  SKY-HIGH,      ...  ..    376 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

SUNRISE  ON  AMMONET  MOUNTAIN,       .         .         .391 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 
JUNE,       .  410 


The   Sylvester    Quarry. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OLD  FRIENDS. 

DR.  JOHN  STRONG  drove  slowly  home- 
ward over  the  Quarry  road  one  warm 
.Inly  evening.  The  day  had  been  a  busy  one, 
so  he  was  glad  to  take  off  his  hat  and  let  the 
breeze  ruffle  his  hair  as  he  gazed  with  never- 
sate<l  pleasure  on  the  beautiful  landscape  spread 
out  below  him.  For  he  was  on  the  crest  of  the 
mountain  above  the  Sylvester  Quarry  on  his 
way  through  the  thriving  village  which  had 
grown  ii]>  near  by  it,  and  so  on  to  his  own  home 
on  the  other  side  half  way  down  the  mountain. 
To  his  right,  half  a  mile  below,  the  stone 
tower  of  Little  Acorns  Chapel  could  be  seen 
through  the  tree  tops ;  farther  on,  the  grey  chim- 
neys of  Miss  Janet  Sylvester's  home,  Little 
Acorns,  rose  against  the  sky;  and  still  beyond, 
the  massive  walls  of  the  Standish  home  were 
visible  among  the  oaks  which  surrounded  it.  In 
the  distance  the  fading  sunlight  was  reflected 


8,  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

from  windows  and  spires  in  Standish  town, 
while  the  sparkle  of  Ammonet  river  flashed  here 
and  there.  Everywhere  was  the  richness  of 
fresh  verdure,  the  varied  beauty  of  hill  and 
dale  overhung  now  with  the  golden  glow  of  sun- 
set. 

Gradually,  as  the  wheels  of  the  doctor's  buggy 
turned  more  and  more  slowly  over  the  grass- 
grown  road,  the  look  of  anxious  thought  left  his 
face,  its  lines  relaxed ;  the  serenity  of  the  quiet 
evening  time  soothed  him.  He  began  humming 
an  old  song. 

Just  then  he  heard  the  quick  canter  of  a 
horse's  hoofs  behind  him.  Almost  at  the  same 
instant  a  clear  voice  called  out,  "A  penny  for 
your  thoughts,  Doctor  Strong !  I've  been  watch- 
ing you  over  your  buggy  top  for  a  whole  min- 
ute." 

"So  long  as  that,  Miss  Violet!"  exclaimed 
the  doctor,  drawing  rein  and  turning  to  look 
into  the  face  of  the  rider  now  beside  him.  "Who 
would  believe  that  you  could  become  so  ab- 
sorbed in  any  one  thing!  But  be  good  enough 
to  explain  what  you  are  doing  away  up  here 
alone  at  this  time  of  the  day." 

^Oh!  Keith  was  with  me.  But  ho  had  to 
stop  at  old  Mrs.  Fowler's  cottage  to  see  some- 
body who  is  sick,  and  I  grew  tired  of  waiting; 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  fJ 

so  when  I  spied  I  lie  waving  of  your  golden  locks 
at  the  cross  road  I  told  him  I'd  overtake  you, 
and  here  I  am !  And  now  aren't  you  going  to 
earn  your  penny  ?" 

Her  blue  eyes  were  dancing  with  fun. 

"I  was  wondering  how  I  should  find  Berdel," 
said  the  doctor,  simply. 

Instantly  Violet's  expressive  face  changed. 
The  girlish  mischief  gave  place  to  womanly 
tenderness. 

"Oh !"  she  cried,  softly.  "Is  dear  Miss  Ber- 
del worse  to-day  ?  I'm  so  sorry." 

"She  was  suffering  much  when  I  left  home 
this  morning.  I  fear  she  has  had  one  of  her 
hard  days,  poor  child !" 

Violet  drew  a  long  breath. 

"It  does  seem  to  me  wicked,"  she  said,  after 
a  silence  during  which  Beauty  stepped  noise- 
lessly beside  the  slowly-moving  carriage1, 
"wicked  for  God  to  let  such  sweet  dear  people 
as  Miss  Berdel  be  sick  and  endure  such  horrible 
pain  when  he  could  just  as  well  make  them 
strong.  Of  course,  everybody  nearly  is  ill  some- 
times., but  to  bo  so  always  and  to  suffer  so  ter- 
ribly— oh !  why  does  it  have  to  be,  Dr.  Strong  ?" 

"Do  you  remember  what  Peter  says,  Miss 
Violet  ? — 'Beloved,  think  it  not  strange  con- 
cerning the  fiery  trial  which  is  to  try  you,  as 


10  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

though  some  strange  thing  happened  unto  you ; 
but  rejoice,  inasmuch  as  ye  are  partakers  of 
Christ's  sufferings,  that,  when  his  glory  shall  be 
revealed,  ye  may  be  glad  also  with  exceeding 
joy.'  I  suppose  he  probably  referred  to  suffer- 
ing of  the  mind  or  spirit,  but  I  often  think  his 
words  apply  equally  to  physical  suffering.  We 
cannot  tell  why  it  has  to  be,  except  that  it  is 
God's  will.  But  we  can  feel  that  suffering  of 
any  kind,  if  rightly  borne,  allies  us  more  closely 
to  our  Saviour  and  makes  us  more  like  him." 

"But  why  should  people  who  are  already 
Christians  and  as  good  as  they  can  be  suffer  so  ? 
It  would  serve  wicked  people  right  and  be  a 
sort  of  punishment  for  them,  but  Christians 
surely  do  not  need  it." 

The  doctor  smiled,  but  before  he  could  reply 
a  bend  in  the  road  brought  them  suddenly  face 
to  face  with  a  low,  open  carriage  drawn  by  a 
pair  of  handsome  horses.  Their  driver  drew 
them,  sharply  to  one  side,  while  Dr.  Strong 
hastened  to  turn  his  dozing  mare  from  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road.  lie  raised  his  hat,  with  a 
somewhat  keen  glance  at  the  occupants  of  the 
carriage,  Mrs.  Lucille  Vaiidyne,  a  beautiful 
young  widow,  recently  come  to  live  near  Stand- 
isb,  and  Mac  Donald  Caldwell,  a  nephew  of  the 
Stand ish  family. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  11 

Mac  and  Violet  exchanged  lively  greetings, 
and  Mrs.  Vandyiie  flashed  a  brilliant  smile  as 
they  passed. 

"Isn't  she  perfectly  lovely,  Dr.  Sttrong!" 
exclaimed  Violet  with  girlish  enthusiasm  almost 
before  they  were  out  of  hearing,  "and  what  a 
dream  of  a  dress  she  has  on !" 

Dr.  Strong  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh,  a  mel- 
low, rich  laugh,  low  and  very  pleasant  to  hear. 

"I'm  not  going  to  stay  with  you  another  min- 
ute, you  saucy  man,  to  laugh  at  me,"  cried 
Violet,  with  a  deepening  of  the  rosy  color  in  her 
cheeks.  "Here's  Keith  caught  up  with  us.  He 
laughed  at  me,  Keith,  because  I  said  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne  is  lovely  and  has  a  pretty  dress  on.  Didn't 
vou  meet  her  just  now,  and  wasn't  she  charm- 
ing?" 

A  smile  and  a  shadow  crossed  Keith's  face  in 
quick  succession.  He  made  no  direct  reply. 

"Good-evening,  Doctor.     You  look  tired." 

"How  are  you,  Dennet  ?  Yes,  I  am  a  bit 
tired.  But  Miss  Violet  has  been  kind  enough 
to  cheer  me  up  by  a  few  minutes  of  her  com- 
pany." 

"Oh!  thank  you,  Doctor,"  came  mockingly 
from  Violet,  as  she  turned  in  the  saddle  to 
wave  him  a  good-bye. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  had  disappeared  down 


12  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

the  hill,  leaving  the  doctor  to  his  reveries.  But 
the  charm  of  his  solitude  had  been  broken,  so 
very  soon  he  tightened  rein  and  drove  the  rest 
of  the  way  home  at  a  brisk  trot. 

Just  as  Keith  and  Violet  came  abreast  of 
Little  Acorns  chapel  a  young  lady  dressed  in 
white,  with  a  bunch  of  sweet  peas  at  her  belt, 
opened  a  side  door,  came  out  and  locked  it  be- 
hind her. 

"Oh !  there's  Louise,"  exclaimed  Violet. 
"She's  been  practicing  on  the  organ  for  next 
Sunday." 

"But  she  should  not  stay  until  after  sun- 
set," replied  Keith  as  they  walked  their  horses 
over  the  grassy  space  near  the  chapel. 

"Oh!  no  one  would  ever  harm  Louise — if 
she  were  far  up  the  mountain  at  midnight.  You 
can't  think  how  all  the  people  love;  her." 

"Our  own  people,  yes,"  answered  Keith,  his 
face  lighting  up  in  response  to  Louise's  smile 
of  greeting.  "Miss  Lucinda,  don't  you  know 
that  you  are  breaking  the  rules?"  he  added, 
speaking  directly  to  the  girl  who  was  now  he- 
side  them.  Louise  looked  up  at  Violet,  laugh- 
ing merrily. 

"Mr.  Keith  never  can  remember  that.  I'm 
not  the  same  little  girl  lie  found  at  Little  Acorns 
five  years  ago.  Isn't  it  funny  ?" 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  13 

"One  need  only  use  one's  eyes,"  was  his  re- 
joinder, glancing  at  the  bright  face  so  nearly 
on  a  level  with  Lis  own,  "to  discover  that  the 
liUfe  girl  has  gone  forever." 

"And  one's  good  sense  to  know  that  the  big 
girl  can  take  care  of  herself  within  sight  of  her 
own  vine  and  fig  tree,"  she  quickly  added  as  if 
completing  his  sentence. 

"Was  there  ever  such  another  darling  old 
fuss-budget  about  two  girls,  Louise  ?  Come  now, 
you  shall  walk  beside  us  and  we  will  be  your 
body-guard,"  declared  Violet. 

"Oh !  no,  please  go  on.  I  wish  to  stop  on  the 
way  home — just  for  a  minute,  Mr.  Keith." 

So  they  rode  away  and  Louise  walked  leis- 
urely along  the  pleasant  shady  road.  The  little 
exchange  of  pleasantries  had  carried  her 
thoughts  back  to  the  days  when  she  first  knew 
Keith  and  Violet;  to  the  home-coming  of  her 
long-absent  sister  Marcia,  with  her  twin  children, 
Mark  and  Marcia;  to  the  great  change  in  her 
father  from  a  man  of  the  world  to  an  earnest 
Christian;  to  the  building  of  the  chapel,  and 
the  beginning  of  the  quarry  village.  So  much 
had  happened  during  the  intervening^years  that 
those  happy  hours  seemed  far  back  in  the  past, 
But  Louise  loved  to  live  them  over  again  often. 
Having  done  her  errand  at  a  cottage  near  the 


14  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

chapel,  she  walked  on  wholly  absorbed  in 
thought,  and  did  not  hear  an  approaching  car- 
riage until  Mac's  voice  aroused  her.  Then  she 
heard  Mrs.  Vandyne  saying,  graciously,  "Do  al- 
low us  the  pleasure,  Miss  Standish,  of  taking 
you  home." 

Mac  was  already  beside  her,  cap  in  hand,  and 
she  took  the  proffered  seat  beside  his  companion 
while  he  sat  opposite.  The  picture  of  the  two, 
so  striking  in  beauty  and  contrast,  was  vividly 
impressed  upon  his  memory.  Years  afterwards 
he  had  only  to  close  his  eyes  to  bring  it  before 
him. 

Lucille  Vandyne  was  like  a  rich  red  rose, 
dark,  brilliant,  fascinating,  with  an  easy  ele- 
gance of  manner  and  a  sumptuousness  of  attire 
in  keeping  with  her  love  of  beauty  and  of  self. 

Louise  Standish — crystal  clear,  frank — with 
a  nature  of  childlike  simplicity  and  a  heart  of 
which  her  sweet,  face  was  true  index — brown- 
oyed,  slender,  fair,  brought  to  one's  thoughts  a 
spray  of  apple  blossoms,  fragrant  and  lovely 
with  the  freshness  of  eternal  springtime. 

"Did  you  see  the  sunset  to-night,  Louise?" 
asked  Mac.  "It  was  tremendously  fine." 

"No,  Mac;  I  was  busy  in  the  chapel." 

"You  should  have  seen  it,  Miss  Standish," 
said  Mrs.  Vandyne,  smiling.  "I  remember  but 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  15 

one  such  effect  before — at  Lucerne  one  evening 
in  August.  Yon  have  no  idea,  Mr.  Caldwell, 
of  the  color  possibilities  of  the  sky  in  that  part 
of  the  world.  Yon  have  been  there,  though, 
possibly  ?" 

"~No,  Mrs.  Yandyne.  My  only  trip  abroad 
was  a  hurried  visit  to  a  country  home  in  Eng- 
land when  I  was  but  a  lad." 

"Then  you  have  a  great  deal  of  enjoyment 
before  you.  I  must  have  yon  for  one  of  our 
party  next  summer;"  and  she  smiled  again  in 
a  flattering  way.  "Yon  have  just  the  appre- 
ciative temperament  which  gets  the  most  out  of 
every  fine  thing." 

"I  am  sure  I  should  have  a  jolly  time,"  re- 
plied Mac,  enthusiastically;  and  his  heart  was 
throbbing  with  excitement  as  he  said  to  himself 
that  Mrs.  Yandyne  was  certainly  a  fine  woman 
who  understood  a  fellow. 

.He  and  Louise  bade  Mrs.  Yandyne  good- 
bye when  she  set  them  down  at  Standish  Hall. 

"'And  remember,  Mr.  Caldwell,"  she  said  as 
she  drove  away,  "you  are  to  come  over  very  soon 
and  see  my  collection  of  photographs.  I  shall 
expect  you." 

There  was  no  chance  for  reply,  but  Mac  stood 
uncovered,  smiling  and  bowing  until  she  had 


10  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

gone,  then  turned  and  walked  beside  Lonise  to 
the  house. 

"Isn't  she  a  stunner,  Louise  ?"  he  asked, 
eagerly. 

"She  has  a  beautiful  face,  but — ."  Louise 
hesitated.  "I  can't  explain  just  what  I  do 
mean,  Mac,  but  she  isn't  a  bit  like  sister  or 
Auntie  Jean." 

"Why,  of  course  not-"  assented  Mac  at  once, 
"for  she  has  seen  so  much  of  the  world,  and — 
and — everything.  She's  fine." 


CHAPTER  II. 

AT  LITTLE  ACOKNS. 

MISS  JANET  SYLVESTER'S  house- 
hold consisted  of  three  people  besides 
herself;  namely,  her  cousin  Keith  Dennet,  who 
was  pastor  of  Little  Acorns  Chapel,  Violet  Syl- 
vester, who  had  come  from  her  own  home  in 
England  on  the  death  of  her  father  to  live  with 
her  only  remaining  relatives,  and  little  Hilda 
MacDonald  Sylvester,  Mac's  "name  lady,"  and 
the  dear,  adopted  daughter  of  "Auntie  Jean." 

It.  was  a  well-ordered  household,  a  haven  of 
peace  and  comfort  for  every  storm-tossed  or  sin- 
sick  or  over-burdened  soul  in  the  whole  country 
around. 

During  the  three  years  and  more  since  the 
larger  opening  np  of  the  Sylvester  Quarry  and 
its  active  working  Keith's  hands  had  been  full 
of  many  sorts  of  work.  For  a  village  of  some 
thousand  souls  had  grown  to  vigorous  life  quite 
near  the  quarry,  composed  almost  wholly  of  the 
superintendents,  assistants  and  workmen  there. 
As  pastor  of  the  little  church,  already  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  resources  as  well  as  the  needs 
2 


18  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

of  the  neighborhood,  he  naturally  became  an  ad- 
viser, and,  in  many  cases,  the  actual  helper  of 
the  newcomers.  His  wise  counsels  had  been 
generally  followed,  until,  little  by  little,  he  had 
come  to  be  relied  upon  in  almost  any  kind  of  an 
emergency  by  young  and  old. 

To  "ask  Mr.  Keith"  usually  meant  to  see  a 
clear  way  out  of  troubles. 

This  broadening  of  his  work  was  pleasing  to 
Keith,  who  longed  for  nothing  so  much  as  to  be 
of  service  to  his  kind.  He  found,  too,  that  by 
meeting  his  people  on  the  plane  of  their  every- 
day-life he  was  the  better  able  to  interest  them 
in  higher  things. 

Janet  was  his  efficient  helpmeet  in  all  this 
good  work.  He  often  told  her  that  but  for  her 
unfailing  sympathy,  her  loving  devotion  and 
her  readiness  of  suggestion  he  should  sometimes 
falter  under  responsibilities  which  frequently 
became  heavy. 

On  the  morning  following  Dr.  Strong's  in- 
terrupted sunset  reverie,  Janet  sat  on  the  wide 
portico  leading  to  her  garden  winding  a  rose 
chain  for  Hilda. 

"There,  dear,  it  is  long  enough  now,"  she 
said,  twining  the  fragrant  garland  around  and 
around  the  plump  little  figure. 

"One  for  Dumpling  too,  please,  Auntie  Jean," 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  19 

begged  Hilda,  holding  up  her  snow-white  kit- 
ten. 

"O  fie!  Does  Dumpling  want  a  chain?  I 
think  her  mistress  had  better  make  it  then. 
See,  here  are  the  roses  and  string,  and  I  will 
show  you  how." 

Quite  contentedly  the  little  maiden  sat  down 
in  one  corner  and  began  the  pretty  work.  This 
soon  resulted  in  a  rose-decked  kitten,  which  took 
the  first  opportunity  to  bound  away  over  the 
grass,  followed  by  the  loudly-remonstrating 
Hilda. 

Janet  was  watching  the  graceful  pair  when 
Keith  came  out  from  his  study  with  half  a  dozen 
letters  in  his  hand.  She  noticed  at  once  a  look 
of  more  than  usual  anxiety  on  his  face,  but  she 
waited  for  him  to  speak  first.  He  drew  a  chair 
opposite  her  own  and  sat  for  some  minutes  in 
silence,  looking  over  the  letters.  At  last  he 
looked  up  and  asked,  "Where's  Violet?" 

"She  has  gone  for  a  horse-back  ride  with 
Louise  and  Mac.  I  think  they  went  to  Stand- 
ish,"  Janet  replied,  rather  surprised  at  the  ques- 
tion, for  Keith  himself  had  seen  them  start. 

"Oh !  yes— I  remember." 

The  look  of  anxiety  deepened. 

"I  wish  my  hands  were  not  so  tied  here  just 
now,  Jeanie.  I'd  like  to  take  that  boy  off  to 
the  other  side  of  the  world  for  a  vear  or  two." 


20  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Do  you  mean  Mac?"  asked  Janet.  "Why, 
Keith,  what  has  happened  ?" 

"Nothing — nothing — yet  that  one  could  put 
a  finger  on,  but  I  have  had  an  uneasy  feeling 
about  him,  which  I  cannot  shake  off,  ever  since 
he  came  home  from  college  this  summer.  Have 
you  noticed  any  change  in  him  ?" 

"Not  the  least  in  the  world.  He's  just  the 
same  frank,  affectionate  boy,  as  fond  of  Hilda 
and  of  you  and  me  as  ever — and,  I've  thought, 
more  devoted  than  usual  to  Violet." 

"But  he's  not  here  as  much  as  heretofore." 

"He's  a  young  man  now,  and  has  more  to  call 
him  away,"  replied  Janet,  with  a  curious  look 
at  her  companion.  "Why,  Keith,  I  never  knew 
you  to  be  unreasonable  before.  What  makes  you 
so  anxious  about  Mac  ?  I  wish  you  would  tell 
me  plainly  just  what  it  is  that  troubles  you. 
Why  are  you  uneasy  about  him  ?" 

"Mrs.  Vandyne,"  was  his  brief  answer. 

Janet  began  to  laugh,  but  checked  herself  as 
she  saw  Keith's  clouded  face. 

"If  that  is  all,  my  dear  Keith,  do  fling  your 
fears  to  the  winds.  Mrs.  Vandyne  is  years  older 
than  Mac.  Why,  she  must  be  thirty-five  at  the 
very  least.  Do  you  suppose  she  would  be  seri- 
ously interested  in  a  boy  of  twenty?  She  has 
been  polite  to  him  as  to  all  our  young  people  be- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  21 

cause  they  are  friends  of  Howard  St.  John,  her 
brother.  Why,  Keith,  I'm  amazed  at  you.  If 
it  were  I  now  who  was  getting  into  a  panic  over 
a  possible  flirtation,  it  would  not  be  surprising, 
for  old  hens  are  always  ready  to  fly  out  over 
their  chicks ;  but  for  you,  my  clear-headed,  sen- 
sible, matter-of-fact  cousin,  to  be  so  apprehen- 
sive, I  cannot  understand  it." 

"I  can  hardly  understand  it  myself,  Jeanie 
dear,"  he  answered,  smiling  at  her  earnestness ; 
"it  is  an  instinctive  distrust  of  the  woman.  She 
is  vain,  selfish  and  unscrupulous  beneath  all  her 
suavity.  She  sees  Mac's  open  admiration,  and, 
unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken,  she  will  not 
hesitate  to  use  him  as  a  tool,  a  toy,  a  victim  of 
her  egotism." 

"But,  Keith,  you  forget  Mac's  sterling  char- 
acter— his  professions  as  a  Christian — his  in- 
terest in  all  the  wrork  up  at  the  quarry.  I  don't 
believe  you  could  convince  Andy  Graham  that 
Mac  could  ever  be  in  the  wrong." 

"Andy  Graham  owes  his  reclamation  from  a 
drunkard's  grave  to  Mac.  It  is  on  Andy's  ac- 
count, and  that  of  dozens  of  other  young  men  at 
the  Quarry  village,  as  well  as  for  Mac's  own, 
that  I'd  like  to  get  him  away  from  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne's  influence,"  responded  Keith. 

"I  really  think  you  are  making  a  mountain 


22  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

out  of  a  mole-hill,  Keith,"  said  Miss  Janet,  ris- 
ing. "Do  put  the  whole  matter  out  of  your 
mind.  Why,  I  would  as  soon  think  of  Louise 
herself  giving  us  cause  for  anxiety." 

"Your  instincts  should  be  keener  than  mine, 
Jeanie.  And  yet — pardon  me — you  do  not 
know  the  world  as  I  do." 

"I  know  Mac,"  she  declared  stoutly,  "and  I 
believe  in  him  and  shall  believe  in  him  unless  I 
see  something  worse  than  his  admiration  for  a 
pretty  woman.  I  must  go  now  and  attend  to 
some  household  matters.  Don't  let  me  hear  any 
more  of  this  croaking,  Sir  Haven !" 

He  sat  for  a  good  while  after  she  left  him,  his 
thoughts  flowing  in  the  same  channel. 

"It  isn't  in  Jeanie,"  he  mused,  "to  under- 
stand such  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Vandyne,  for  one  is 
as  unselfish  as  the  other  is  selfish.  I  can  only 
hope  that  my  fears  may  be  groundless.  Ah! 
Good  morning,  Mrs.  Eliot !" 

He  sprang  to  meet  and  shake  hands  with  a 
tall,  sweet-faced  lady  who  had  been  coming  un- 
observed toward  him  across  the  lawn,  from 
Standish  Hall. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Keith;  you  are  just  the 
one  I  came  to  see.  Can  you  give  me  a  few  min- 
utes ?" 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  23 

"As  many  as  you  like,  Mrs.  Eliot.  Will  you 
sit  here  ?" 

"Thank  you.  Mr.  Keith,  can  nothing  be  done 
to  prevent  that  new  store  from  being  opened 
in  the  Quarry  village  ?  Mark  tells  me  that  they 
are  to  sell  cigarettes  and  beer ;  and  you  know  to 
what  they  will  surely  lead.  We  have  been  so 
fortunate  hitherto  in  having  nothing  of  the  kind 
anywhere  in  the  neighborhood.  I  cannot  bear 
to  think  of  it." 

"I've  just  received  letters  from  a  couple  of 
men  in  our  church — Doane  and  Slocum — asking 
me  to  forbid  these  people,  Hermann  and  Com- 
pany, from  coming  to  Sylvester  at  all.  But 
that  is  impossible.  The  day  has  gone  by  when 
we  few  families  most  deeply  interested  in  the 
Quarry  settlement  can  have  the  say-so  about 
things.  Sylvester  is  an  independent  institution 
now.  At  its  present  rate  of  growth  it  will  in  the 
near  future  be  a  town,  and  its  inhabitants  must 
decide  on  all  such  matters.  Even  now,  with 
two  or  three  hundred  men,  they  are  the  ones  in 
authority.  The  surprising  matter  to  me  is  that 
those  people  who  will  have  tobacco  and  liquor 
have  been  contented  for  so  long  a  time  to  go  to 
Standish  for  it,  or  to  buy  it  on  the  sly,  as  they 
undoubtedly  have  been  doing." 

"But  something  should,  something  must  be 


24  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

done  about  this  store,  Mr.  Keith.  We  can't  just 
sit  quietly  by  and  see  wrong  things  done  and 
say  nothing.  You  surely  cannot  mean  to  do 
that." 

"From  Hermann  and  Company's  point  of 
view  there  is  nothing  wrong  in  their  selling  to- 
bacco or  strong  drink  in  any  form.  It  is  as 
legitimate  a  business  as  selling  beefsteak  and 
onions.  They  supply  a  need  supposed  to  be  as 
genuine  as  that  for  garden  produce.  When 
remonstrated  with  by  those  who  think  other- 
wise, they  say  politely,  'This  is  only  a  difference 
of  opinion.  You  prefer  to  spend  your  money 
for  books  and  fruit,  Mr.  Jones  prefers  to  spend 
his  at  my  counter  for  cigars  and  beer.  Why 
should  he  forbid  you  or  you  forbid  him  ?  Each 
has  a  right  to  his  own  personal  choice  in  the 
matter.'  How  can  that  argument  be  refuted  ?" 

Marcia  Eliot's  face  was  a  picture  of  growing 
amazement  and  dismay  as  Keith  proceeded. 

"If  I  were  not  looking  right  at  you,  Mr.  -Keith, 
I  could  not  believe  my  ears,"  she  exclaimed,  in- 
dignantly. "How  can  you  speak  so  ?  I  thought 
you  would  be  the  first  one  of  all  to  disapprove 
of  this  matter." 

Keith's  absent-minded  gaze  came  quickly 
from  the  distant  landscape,  and  for  an  instant 
he  looked  at  Mrs.  Eliot  in  a  rather  blank  fash- 
ion. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  25 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Eliot.  I  fear  I  did 
not  make  myself  clear.  I  was  only  quoting  this 
class  of  men  to  show  how  impossible  it  is  to  in- 
fluence them  by  any  arbitrary  method.  There 
is  no  legal  or  logical  reason  why  this  store  may 
not  be  opened  at  the  Sylvester  Quarry  village. 
Our  only  chance  for  success  in  closing  it,  or  pre- 
venting its  being  opened  at  all,  lies  in  the  wish 
of  the  people  living  in  the  village  and  neighbor- 
hood. If  public  opinion  is  against  it,  a  ma- 
jority of  public  opinion,  that  settles  it;  other- 
wise— ." 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

"Otherwise,"  said  Mrs.  Eliot,  "our  boys  will 
take  the  first  step  downward  and  our  men,  many 
of  them,  the  last  step." 

"That  is  the  inevitable  harvest  of  such  sow- 
ing, Mrs.  Eliot." 

Again  he  was  silent,  and  his  companion  re- 
garded him  with  a  puzzled  expression.  Pres- 
ently his  rather  sombre  face  lighted  up  with  the 
peculiarly  bright,  winning  smile  which  made  it 
so  attractive. 

"But,  thank  God,  we  are  not  left  to  our  own 
devices,  helplessly  to  witness  the  degradation  of 
our  brothers  and  sisters.  'Behold,  the  Lord's 
hand  is  not  shortened  that  it  cannot  save, 
neither  his  ear  heavy  that  it  cannot  hear.' ' 


26  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Is  he  preaching  you  a  sermon,  Marcia,  this 
dear  minister  of  ours  ?"  asked  Janet,  playfully, 
coming  out  just  in  time  to  hear  the  last  words. 
"I  wouldn't  let  him  if  I  were  you." 

"No,  he' s  not  preaching ;  he  is  exasperating 
mo  by  giving  me  no  satisfaction  about  this  nev* 
store  up  at  the  quarry.  I  can't  find  out 
whether  he  means  to  do  anything  about  it  or 
not,  So  nearly  as  I  can  discover,  he's  leaving  it 
all  to  the  Lord." 

"And  isn't  that  a  good  place  in  which  to  leave 
it?"  inquired  Janet,  amused  at  Marcia's  im- 
patience. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course ;  only  it  seems  to  me  that 
we  could  help  a  good  deal.  The  Lord  doesn't 
work  without  means." 

"I  think  we  will  have  to>  excuse  Keith  this 
morning,  Marcia,"  said  Janet  gravely,  though 
with  smiling  eyes.  "It  isn't  an  hour  since  he 
gave  me  strong  proof  of  mental  aberration  on 
a  totally  different  subject.  Come  now  and  see 
my  lovely  gloxinias.  They  are  just  in  bloom. 
And  later  we  will  talk  with  him  about  this 
wretched  business." 

She  took  Marcia's  hand  and  led  her  out  to  the 

garden  without  a  protesting  word  from  Keith. 

"He  really  is  very  much  troubled  about  Mac, 

Marcia,"  she  went  on  when  they  were  out  of 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  27 

hearing.  "And  it  is  so  foolish.  But  when 
Keith  does  get  to  looking  on  the  dark  side, 
things  are  terribly  black.  Fortunately,  these 
times  come  very  rarely  and  are  soon  over.  I 
have  never  seen  him  so  disturbed  as  he  is  this 
morning.  Mac  is  so  dear  to  him  that  he  cannot 
endure  anything  in  him  short  of  perfection." 

"But  what  has  Mac  done  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Eliot 
curiously. 

"Nothing  at  all.  I  won't  even  mention  it  to 
you,  Marcia,  for  Keith  will  be  ashamed  of  his 
over-anxiety  before  the  week  is  over.  I'm  only 
sorry  he  allows  himself  to  be  made  unhappy  by 
it  for  even  a  little  while." 

"Janet,  what  do  you  think  we,  or  any  one,  can 
do  about  this  liquor  store  ?  Isn't  it  a  dreadful 
thing  to  think  of  ?" 

"It  surely  is,  Marcia.  My  heart  grows  heavy 
at  the  very  idea  of  such  a  blot  on  our  pretty, 
quiet,  happy  village.  I  suppose  it  was  too  much 
for  us  to  expect  that  such  things  could  never 
come,  but  it  is  hard  all  the  same.  The  only  way 
I  see  to  counteract  this  evil  influence  is  to  make 
our  boys  and  girls  so  strong  in  the  right  that 
they  will  resist  any  temptation  to  do  wrong." 

"But  that  takes  so  long,"  sighed  Marcia. 

"Yes,  I  know  it  takes  time.  But  strength  of 
character,  real  genuine  Christian  character, 


28  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

which  gets  its  vitality  straight  from  the  Mas- 
ter's own  abounding  life,  is  the  only  real  pro- 
tection against  temptation.  Prohibitions  and 
restrictions  don't  amount  to  much  unless  the 
heart  is  right.  Then  they  are  not  needed.  You 
see,  my  Irish  blood  is  uppermost  this  morning! 
I  believe  it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  get  our 
young  people  together—our  Christian  young 
people  at  the  chapel,  I  mean — and  give  them 
some  simple,  plain,  straight-to-the-point  talks 
on  narcotics,  making  them  intelligent  on  the 
subject.  Then,  later  on,  we  might  organize  anti- 
cigarette  societies  and  a  Loyal  Legion  Band, 
and  ask  the  members  to  bring  outsiders  in." 

"That  is  just  what  I  had  thought  of,  and 
what  I  wanted  to  suggest  to  Mr.  Keith.  I  won- 
der if  it  is  true  that  Hermann  and  Company 
or  any  one  else  has  a  right,  a  legal  right,  to  open 
such  stores  anywhere  they  choose," 

"Unfortunately,  it  is  true,  Marcia,  But  I 
hope  that  it  may  not  always  be  possible  for  such 
centers  of  harm  to  be  established  in  the  midst 
of  respectable  communities.  I'll  speak  to  Keith 
about  our  plan  sometime  to-day,  and  send  over 
for  you  to  arrange  things  with  us." 

"I'll  gladly  do  all  I  can.  Here  come  the 
children.  What  a  lovely  girl  Violet  is  growing 
to  be.  One  rarely  sees  a  more  perfect  blonde 
beauty." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  29 

"And  she  is  just  as  sweet  and  good  as  she  is 
beautiful,"  responded  Janet,  warmly.  "I  never 
knew  a  nature  more  free  from  personal  vanity 
or  selfishness.  She  never  thinks  of  herself,  I 
really  believe.  How  blessed  I  am,  Marcia,  with 
two  such  darlings  as  \7iolet  and  Hilda.  Some- 
times I  feel  that  my  cup  fairly  runs  over  with 
good  things." 

"And  you  deserve  every  one  of  them,  Janet." 

They  had  walked  back  to  the  portico  to  meet 
the  riders.  Violet  had  dismounted  and  was 
chatting  merrily  with  Keith,  who  seemed  to  be 
entirely  his  own  cheery  self  again. 

"Are  you  not  coming  in,  you  two?"  asked 
Janet, 

"No,  thank  you,  Auntie  Jean,"  answered 
Louise,  patting  Brownie's  smooth  neck.  "I 
must  go  to  see  that  my  horse  is  properly  cared 
for.  Our  new  groom  is  not  acquainted  with  all 
her  pet  likings  yet.  Are  you  coming,  Mac  ?" 

"Yes.  And  then  we'll  finish  mounting  those 
views  we  took  the  other  morning.  You've  not 
seen  them  yet,  have  you,  Mr.  Keith  ?" 

"ISTo,  Mac.  You'll  be  on  hand  up  the  hill  at 
four  o'clock,  won't  you  ?" 

"Yes — oh  ! — and  that  reminds  me  that  Mr. 
Adams  gave  me  a  memorandum  for  you — es- 
timates for  our  new  book-cases  at  the  hall,  he 
said." 


30  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

He  pulled  a  big  envelope  from  his  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  Keith,  then  lifted  his  cap  to  the 
ladies  and  was  off  after  Louise. 

Violet  had  disappeared.  Janet  looked  after 
the  two  as  they  rode  away,  then  turned  to  Keith. 
The  cloud  had  lifted  from  his  face. 

"See,  Marcia,"  she  cried  gaily,  "Richard  is 
himself  again.  Now  we'll  sit  down  and  have  a 
good  talk  about  this  disagreeable  matter  up  the 
hill." 


CHAPTER  III. 

BEKDEL. 

WITEN^  Dr.  Strong  stepped  from  his 
buggy  at  the  door  of  his  own  home,  twi- 
light had  fallen.  At  a  low  rose-wreathed  win- 
dow opening  on  a  broad  veranda  he  saw  the  flut- 
ter of  a  white  handkerchief.  Out  on  the  soft, 
fragrant  air  floated  the  words,  "Oh !  what  a 
tardy  Jackadel  it  is  to-night.  Come  straight  in 
here  and  give  an  account  of  yourself." 

The  doctor's  face  lighted  up  as  he  listened  to 
every  cadence  of  the  loved  voice. 

"Thank  heaven,  she  is  free  from  pain,"  he 
thought  as  he  quickened  his  steps  and,  cross- 
ing the  broad  entrance  hall,  was  soon  in  his  sis- 
ter's room.  Her  arms  were  extended  in  wel- 
come as  she  half  rose  from  her  pillows  to  receive 
his  embrace.  Then  he  sat  on  the  wide  couch 
and  she  leaned  against  him  with  a  long-drawn 
breath  of  infinite  content. 

For  a  long  while  they  were  silent.  At  last 
she  looked  up  at  him  and  said,  "There  never  was 
a  man  more  rightly  named  than  you  are,  Jack. 
How  lovely  it  is  for  me  that  you  are  so  strong. 


32  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

It  rests  me  just  to  look  at  your  height  and  your 
breadth,  while  to  feel  your  arms  about  me  is  to 
forget  my  own  weak  self." 

Those  who  thought  Dr.  Strong  a  stern  man — 
and  there  were  not  a  few  such — would  never 
have  recognized  as  his,  the  tender,  reverent  ex- 
pression with  which  he  regarded  the  sweet, 
worn  face  so  near  to  his. 

"I  am  strong  in  brawn  and  muscle,  dear  child, 
and  so  a  help  to  you  physically ;  but  it  is  from 
your  bright,  strong  spirit  that  I  gird  myself 
for  the  daily  battle  of  my  life.  I — ." 

"O  Jack !"  she  interrupted,  all  the  sunshine 
clouded,  "don't  say  such  a  thing  as  that.  If  you 
you  could  only  know  how  I — but  don't  let  us 
talk  of  it." 

He  made  no  reply  except  to  lay  his  lips 
against  her  cheek. 

Presently  she  spoke  again  in  a  different  tone. 

"What  pleasant  thing  has  happened  to  you 
to-day,  Jackadel  ?" 

"I  found  that  Mrs.  Lowe's  little  girl  will 
probably  get  well,  and  I  had  a  beautiful  ride 
home  over  the  mountain." 

Her  hand  came  down  from  his  hair  and  gave 
his  trim  beard  a  gentle  tweak.  From  long  ex- 
perience he  knew  that  this  meant,  "Go  on ;  tell 
me  some  more." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  33 

For  Berdel  frequently  suffered  so  greatly  that 
speech'  was  difficult.  At  those  times  she  was 
often  soothed  by  hearing  the  events  of  the  day; 
and  a  little  sign  language,  employed  even  when 
she  felt  comfortable,  had  come  into  use  between 
the  two. 

"The  sunset  Avas  unusually  fine  to-night,"  he 
went  on,  promptly  obedient.  "I  enjoyed  that 
as  I  drove  along  the  Ridge  Road  from  Lowe's; 
then  after  I  turned  down  the  mountain  side  to- 
wards home  I  was  glad  to  be  coming  to  you. 
And  I  saw  Miss  Violet  for  a  few  minutes." 

"And  how  was  she?"  came  instantly  from 
Berdel's  lips.  But  the  words  were  not  more 
swift  than  the  spasm  of  pain  which  contracted 
her  heart  for  a  breathing  space. 

"I  will  not,  I  will  not,"  she  cried  to  herself 
vehemently.  "I  will  not  be  so  mean-hearted. 
Berdel  Strong,  I'm  ashamed  of  you." 

And  again  she  asked  cheerily  "And  how  was 
she,  Jackadel  ?"  The  loving  caress  of  her  hand 
was  now  on  his,  but  she  was  looking  into  his 
eyes,  his  dark  blue  eyes,  which  could  be  so 
searching,  but  which  wTere  now  as  soft  as  her 
own,  and  fixed  upon  some  invisible  object  far 
away. 

"She  was  as  sweet  and  delightful  as  the  flower 
for  which  she  was  named,"  he  answered,  smil- 
3 


34:  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

ing  down  upon  her.  "I  sometimes  think  God 
does  well  to  make  few  such  women  as  you  and 
she.  Otherwise,  this  world  would  be  too  fair  a 
place  to  leave." 

All  the  jealous  resentment  which  had  flashed 
so  quicklv  in  the  sister's  breast  had  died  away, 
for  no  evil  thought  ever  lingered  long  on  the 
threshold  of  Berdel  Strong's  noble  nature.  She 
laughed  softly. 

"How  queer  it  sounds  to  hear  you  call  Violet 
a  woman.  Why,  she  is  but  a  child,  Jack." 

"In  years  perhaps,  but  a  true  woman  never- 
theless. Eternal  youth  is  hers.  She  never  will 
be  old,  and,"  he  added,  "the  experiences  of  life 
will  only  enrich  and  adorn  what  is  already  so 
exquisitely  begun." 

There  was  no  answer  to  this.  The  deepening 
shadows  folded  them  in  a  dusky  silence,  into 
which  before  long  came  a,  brisk  voice,  "Have  you 
two  forgotten  again  that  there's  such  things  as 
vittles  and  drink  in  the  world  ?  I  declare  for't, 
John  B.,  you're  a  good  enough  doctor  for  other 
folks  mebbe,  but  what  your  poor  sister  would  do 
ef  it  warn't  for  me',  I  dunno.  She'd  be  likely 
to  starve  to  death.  Here  she's  waited  a  hull 
hour  to  eat  her  supper  with  you'n  you  ain't 
done  moon  in'  over  her  yet.  Ef  ye  ever  do  git 
a  sweetheart,  which  I've  small  idee  of,  I  pity 
her  more'n  I  pity  Pharaoh." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  35 

"Yes,  Aunt  Diana,  we're  all  ready  for  sup- 
per." called  Berdel  through  the  darkness.  "I 
forgot  to  ask  Jack  to  light  the  lamp." 

"She  forgot,"  mumbled  Aunt  Diana  as  she 
returned  to  the  pleasant  dining-room,  where  a 
tempting  ineal  was  in  readiness.  "She  never 
forgot  nothin'  since  she  was  born,  but  she  kin 
make  excuses  for  John  B.'s  fast's  he  needs  'em, 
ef  not  a  leetle  faster." 

''Will  you  walk,  Dell,  or  shall  I  carry  you  ?" 
the  doctor  was  asking. 

"Oh!  let  me  walk  when  I  can,  please,"  she 
said. 

So  with  his  arm  about  her  frail  figure  they 
passed  slowly  along  the  hall,  following  Aunt 
Diana  and  smiling  at  her  fond  grumbles. 

In  the  mellow  radiance  of  the  lamp  swinging 
above  the  table  the  close  resemblance  between 
brother  and  sister  could  be  seen.  Both  had  the 
same  clear-cut  features,  fair,  broad  brows  and 
Saxon  coloring.  The  doctor's  face  glowed  with 
ruddy  health,  while  BerdeFs  was  of  the  lilies, 
waxen  pallor.  But  the  shining  out  of  a  sweet, 
strong  spirit  illuminated  her  countenance  until 
its  physical  delicacy  was  forgotten. 

They  sat  opposite  each  other  and  Berdel 
poured  the  tea,  as  she  always  insisted  on  doing 
when  she  could.  Her  gentle  "It  does  not  tire 


36  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

me,  Jackadel,  and  I  am  so  much  happier"  often 
overcame  the  doctor's  better  judgment. 

This  evening  she  felt  unusually  well  after  a 
hard  morning,  and  the  rapid  exchange  of  ques- 
tion and  answer,  the  lively  wit  and  laughing 
repartee  between  the  two  brought  a  wreath  of 
smiles  to  Aunt  Diana's  grim  but  not  unkindly 
face. 

"It  beats  all  how  you  can  keep  the  run  of 
everything  for  miles  around,  Mary  Berdel,"  she 
exclaimed  at  last,  after  an  inquiry  of  Berdel' s 
for  a  patient  of  her  brother  miles  away  over  the 
mountain.  "Ef  you  had  four  good  legs  to  go 
about  on,  I  don't  believe  you'd  know  a  bit  more'n 
you  do  now  about  folk's  affairs." 

The  doctor's  hearty  laughter  chimed  in  with 
his  sister's  merry  peal  at  this  statement. 

"Oh!  no,  Aunt  Di.  If  I  were  a  four-footed 
creature,  I  wouldn't  know  half  as  much  as  I 
do  now,  for  I  couldn't  ask  questions.  And  say- 
ing four-footed,  Jack,  reminds  me  of  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne's  new  horse.  Have  you  seen  it  yet  ?" 

"Yes.  She  took  me  out  to  the  stable  this 
morning.  It  is  a  handsome  animal,  but  rather 
too  spirited  for  her  to  ride,  I  should  think.  She 
says  Mac  has  promised  to  get  it  well  broken  in 
for  her.  He  is  an  uncommonly  fine  horseman." 

"He's  a  lovely  boy  in  every  way,  Jack.     I 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  37 

think  I'm  as  fond  of  him  as  you  are  of  Violet. 
What  a  splendid  pair  they  two  would  make." 
She  said  this  quite  innocently  to  all  appear- 
ance, but  with  a  quick,  keen  look  into  her  broth- 
er's face.  For  some  time  a  sure  instinct  had 
warned  her  that  this  beloved  brother  of  hers, 
Avhose  every  thought  she  had  shared  her  life 
long,  was  becoming  very  fond  of  their  fair 
young  neighbor,  Violet  Sylvester.  She  noticed 
that  his  red-letter  hours  were  those  marked  by 
Violet's  presence;  she  had  detected  a  quite  new 
expression  of  tenderness  in  his  eyes  when  Violet 
was  in  their  little  home  or  when  her  name  was 
mentioned.  So,  at  least,  it  had  seemed  to  her, 
but  whether  it  were  really  so  or  only  her  ex- 
cited fancy  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind. 
For  her  brother  was  forty  years  old ;  so  many 
years  Violet's  senior  as  to  make  the  idea  of  an 
attachment  between  them  absurd,  if  not  wholly 
unfitting.  The  thought,  however,  first  lodged 
in  her  mind  some  weeks  before  by  an  indescrib- 
able something  in  the  doctor's  look  and  voice 
when  speaking  to  her  of  Violet,  refused  to  be 
banished.  As  a  consequence  of  its  persistent 
recurrence,  and  of  her  inability  to  come  to  any 
definite  conclusion,  Berdel  occasionally  made 
little  experiments,  such  as  the  one  at  the  tea- 
table  this  evening. 


38  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"I  should  consider  it  dishonorable,"  she  al- 
ways said  to  herself,  by  way  of  making  com- 
fortable a  sensitive  conscience,  "were  it  not  that 
there  is  so  much  I  may  do  to  help  him  if  I  find 
that  it  is  really  so.  For  Jack  ad  el  shall  have 
the  wife  he  chooses  if  he  can  win  her,  no  matter 
how  unsuitable  I  or  any  one  else  may  think  her 
to  be.  And  you,  Mary  Berdel  Strong,  are  not 
to  be  allowed  to  be  jealous  and  horrid  the  very 
least  bit." 

She  laid  down  the  law  to  herself  in  such 
whimsical  fashion,  and  no  one  ever  knew  how 
hardly  won  was  the  victory  which  finally  en- 
abled her  to  give  up  her  heart's  idol  to  another, 
even  in  thought. 

Her  eager  glance  across  the  table  as  she 
coupled  Mac's  name  with  Violet's  brought  no  re- 
ward of  discovery  as  to  Dr.  Strong's  feeling  in 
the  matter.  He  kept  on  buttering  a  slice  of 
Aunt  Diana's  toothsome  brown  bread  with  quiet 
unconcern. 

"Yes,"  he  said ;  "they  do  seem  made  for  each 
other." 

"Umph !"  uttered  Aunt  Di,  setting  down  her 
cup  emphatically;  "I  guess  things  won't  turn 
out  as  they  was  intended  ef  the  widder  Van- 
dyne  is  permitted  to  flourish  around  like  a  green 
bay  tree  much  longer." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  39 

Berdel  was  surprised  to  see  a  frown  of  an- 
noyance settle  on  her  brother's  brow. 

"Suppose  we  don't  repeat  village  gossip  here, 
Aunt  Di,"  he  said  pleasantly,  glancing  from 
Mrs.  Bolton  to  Berdel. 

"That  ain't  gossip,  John  B.,"  was  the  worthy 
woman's  answer,  "but  plain  doin's  in  broad  day- 
light, I'm  as  careful  of  Mary  Berdel  as  you 
be,  but  she'll  hear  of  all  this  sooner  or  later'nd  I 
consider  she'd  better  get  it  first  from  her  own 
folks,  who'll  sift  the  sheep  from  the  goats." 

Again  the  mingled  laugh  of  the  brother  and 
sister  rang  out  merrily.  There  was  no  resist- 
ing Aunt  Diana's  characteristic  use  of  English 
on  occasion. 

When  Berdel's  amusement  had  subsided  she 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  her  companions 
in  a  good  deal  of  bewilderment. 

"What  is  it  all  about  ?"  she  asked.  "I  don't 
in  the  least  understand." 

"Oh !  nothing  much,  Berdel,"  began  her 
brother. 

"Now,  see  here,  John  B.,"  interrupted  Aunt 
Diana,  "don't  you  go  to  salvin'  things  over.  I've 
found  out,  ef  you  haven't,  that  the  best  way  to 
deal  with  Mary  Berdel  from  her  cradle  up  is  to 
give  her  the  worst  end  fust.  Then  she's  got  it, 
hammer  and  tongs,  and  there  ain't  no  call  for 


40  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

her  to  go  on  imaginin'  that  things  is  a  thousand 
times  worse  than  they  really  be." 

An  exchange  of  laughing  glances  flashed 
across  the  table. 

"All  right,  Aunt  Diana,"  said  Dr.  Strong, 
resignedly.  "Get  it  over  with  as  quickly  as  you 
can." 

"You  recollect,  mebbe,  Mary  Berdel,"  con- 
tinued Aunt  Diana  at  once,  "one  day  last  June 
when  I  come  home  and  told  you  that  our  new 
neighbor  was  a  settin'  out  on  her  front  porch  in 
the  middle  of  the  forenoon  in  a  fire-red  dress 
a  listenin'  to  some  young  calf  of  a  boy  tinker  in' 
away  at  what  looked  to  me  like  a  Hubbard 
squash — some  new-f angled  fiddle,  I  guess  likely 
'twas.  Well,  I  didn't  tell  you  so,  but  I  made  up 
my  mind  then  and  there  that  she  wasn't  nothin' 
more  nor  less  than  a  piece  o'  vanity'n  I  haven't 
had  no  call  to  change  my  mind." 

Berdel  laughed. 

"Is  that  all,  Auntie?"  she  asked.  "Why, 
Jackadel  has  often  played  on  his  violin  to  me  on 
our  porch  in  the  morning,  and  you  don't — 

"No,  I  don't,"  interrupted  Aunt  Di,  more 
sharply  than  she  often  spoke,  "an'  don't  you 
ever  speak  of  yourself  in  the  same  breath  with 
her.  I  don't  care  how  rich  nor  fine-mannered 
a  woman  is,  but  there's  something  wrong  when 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  41 

she  sits  decked  out  in  that  way  forenoons  en- 
ticiii'  boys  like  Mac  Caldwell  away  from  their 
work  like  a  big  yellow  spider  a-drawin'  silly 
flies  into  her  web." 

"But,  Auntie,  you  mustn't  be  so  prejudiced. 
Mrs.  Vandyne  isn't  a  big  yellow  spider  if  she 
is  gay  and  worldly.  As  for  Mac,  he  is  a  sterling 
Christian,  strong  and  true  as  he  can  be,  and 
never  could  be  drawn  into  any  spider's  web. 
You  think  so,  too,  don't  you,  Jack  ?" 

"I  think,"  said  Dr.  Strong,  rising  and  com- 
ing around  to  her  side,  "that  it  is  high  time 
you  were  back  on  your  couch.  You  won't  sleep 
a  wink  to-night  with  all  this  romancing  of  Aunt 
Di's  in  your  head." 

So  saying  he  lifted  her  tenderly  and  carried 
her  back  to  her  nest  of  pillows. 

"But  what  is  it  really  about  Mrs.  Vandyne 
and  Mac?" 

"A  good  deal  of  gossip,  Dell,  and  I  fear  some 
truth.  He  seems  to  be  fascinated  by  her,  and 
is  there  much  more  than  he  lets  the  home  people 
know,  I  imagine." 

"But  she  is  not  a  young  woman,  Jackadel. 
She  must  be  years  older  than  Mac.  Why,  Garet 
is  eight  or  ten.  I  can't  imagine  what  has  got 
into  you  people  to  be  so  suspicious.  Aunt 
Diana  is  usually  quite  indifferent  to  her  neigh- 


42  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

bor's  affairs,  and  as  for  you,  Jackadel,  you  al- 
ways see  good  in  everybody.  And  you've  been 
so  fond  and  proud  of  Mac." 

''I  am  still.  We  all  are.  And  that  is  why  it 
hurts  us  to  have  him  come  under  such  an  influ- 
ence. ]STow,  my  darling  girl,  this  must  positively 
be  the  last  word  on  this  subject,  for  to-night  at 
least.  Are  you  comfortably  arranged  ?" 

"Entirely  so,  thank  you,  Jackadel,  and  quite 
ready  for  you  to  begin." 

The  doctor  brought  out  his  violin,  and  for 
an  hour  Berdel  listened  to  its  soothing  strains. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Ax  KVKM.XG  CALL. 

THE  last  faint,  sweet  notes  of  Traiimerei 
were  dying'  away  when  light!  footsteps 
were  heard  crossing-  the  veranda,  and  Violet 
stood  in  the  doorway,  a  slender  white  outline 
against  the  dusk  of  the  dimly-lighted  hall. 

"May  we  come  in,  Doctor  ?"  she  begged  softly. 
"We  won't  make  a  bit  of  noise;  and  please  go 
on  playing." 

"I'm  not  asleep,  Violet,"  spoke  Berdel  from 
her  corner  before  her  brother  could  respond. 
"Come  over  here,  and,  Jack,  bring  some  more 
light,  so  we  can  see  each  other." 

"Good  evening,  Miss  Violet,"  the  doctor  was 
saying,  as  he  led  Violet  across  the  dark  room, 
"And  who  is  with  yon?  Mac,  I  judge,  by  the 
size  of  him.  How  are  yon,  MacDonald  ?  Just 
stand  where  you  are  a  minute,  will  you,  and  I'll 
fetch  a  lamp.  Berdel  and  I  have  a  heathenish 
love  for  darkness  sometimes,  and  forget  to  be 
civilized." 

By  this  time  Aunt  Diana  appeared  with  a 
lamp,  which  the  doctor  promptly  took  from  her 
and  placed  on  the  table. 


44  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Thank  you,  Aunt  Di,"  he  said. 
Miss  Violet  and— 

"My  eyesight  ain't  failin'  that  I  know  of, 
John  B.,"  she  remarked  as  she  shook  hands  with 
the  two  young  people.  "How  does  Miss  Janet 
do  to-day,  Violet  ?" 

"Oh!  Jeanie  is  very  well  indeed,  thank  you, 
Mrs.  Bolton.  One  of  my  errands  over  here  this 
evening  is  to  ask  you  for  your  recipe  for  spiced 
currants  for  her.  Ours  are  just  ripe.  Jeanie 
wants  to  have  some  especially  nice  spiced  ones, 
and  she  thinks  those  you  sent  her  last  winter 
the  best  she  ever  tasted." 

With  her  usual  happy  tact,  Violet  had  struck 
just  the  right  chord.  A  pleased  expression  stole 
over  Aunt  Diana's  face. 

"I  got  that  recipe  from  your  grandmother, 
Mary  Berdel,"  she  said.  "She  was  a  famous 
housekeeper.  Every  thing  she  did  was  just 
right.  She  wan't  much  older  than  you,  Violet, 
when  she  married  John  Berdel,  'n  she  lived  to 
be  ninety.  Girls  in  those  days  amounted  to 
something." 

"And  you  think  girls  nowadays  don't  amount 
to  much  ?"  was  Violet's  merry  retort.  "But 
they  do,  you  know,  Mrs.  Bolton,  and  you'll  say 
so  when  I  bring  you  some  of  the  spiced  currants, 
for  Jeanie  is  going  to  let  me  do  them ;  and  who 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  45 

knows  but  what  I,  too,  shall  become  a  famous 
housekeeper !" 

Aunt  Diana  was  smiling  broadly.  For  once 
she  had  no  answer  ready,  but  hurried  off  to  get 
the  recipe,  while  Violet  turned  to  Berdel  and 
began  a  low-toned  conversation  with  her. 

Dr.  Strong  had  listened  to  the  exchange-  of 
words  between  Aunt  Diana  and  Violet  with  a 
quickly  beating  heart.  What  pictures  they 
brought  before  his  fancy!  The  sweet,  slim 
grandmother  in  her  bridal  white  at  Violet's 
age ;  the  sedate  young  matron,  busy  with  house- 
hold affairs ;  the  long  rowrs  of  currant  bushes  he 
so  well  remembered  at  the  homestead  where  his 
childhood  had  been  passed,  yielding  their  crim- 
son beauty  to  the  deft  hands  of  the  mistress; 
the  toothsome  compound  stored  away  on  pantry 
shelves.  And  then — another  fair  young  maiden 
using  the  ancient  recipe.  Might  she  also  not 
some  day  be  arrayed  in  bridal  white,  and,  as  a 
charming  matron,  fill  a  home,  his  home,  God 
willing,  with  gracious  benediction?  His  eyes 
were  now  fixed  on  her  face  as  she  bent  towards 
Berdel;  his  thoughts  were  full  of  her.  Mac, 
who  was  sitting  silent  at  his  side,  quite  forgot- 
ten, glanced  towards  the  doctor's  handsome  head 
resting  against  the  back  of  his  favorite  easy 
chair. 


46  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"You    are   tired   to-night,    Dr.    Strong,"    he 
remarked,  noticing  his  attitude. 

A  guilty  flush  crept  to  the  brow  of  the  older 


man. 

« 


I  was  tired  when  I  came  in,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing squarely  away  from  the  tempting  vision  at 
his  right,  "but  an  hour  with  Berdel  and  with  my 
violin  always  refreshes  me.  Have  you  had  a 
busy  day,  MacDonald  ?" 

"Oh  !  so-so.  I  was  up  at  the  Quarry  with  Mr. 
Keith  all  the  morning,  trying  to  find  how  the 
land  lies  with  regard  to  the  new  store  Hermann 
and  Company,  of  Standish,  are  talking  of  open- 
ing up  there.  There  seems  to  be  a  small  but  de- 
termined element  in  its  favor,  with  Jim  Fowler 
at  its  head.  Then  this  afternoon  I  had  Mrs. 
Vandyne's  new  horse  out  for  a  gallop.  You 
should  see  it,  Doctor.  A  finer  creature  never 
wore  saddle." 

"I  was  over  the  other  morning  to  see  Garet, 
and  her  mother  took  me  out  to  the  stable.  Don 
is  a  handsome  animal,  but  I  thought  not  quite 
as  amiable  as  a  lady's  horse  should  be." 

"'Oh !  he  has  plenty  of  spirit,"  replied  Mac, 
laughing.  "So  has  his  mistress.  She  can  man- 
age him  fast  enough,  lie's  thoroughly  broken 
and  only  needs  to  be  used.  I  have  discovered 
no  ugly  tricks  about  him." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  47 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Dr.  Strong,  absently,  but 
with  his  keenest  look  fastened  on  Mac's  counte- 
nance. He  had  suddenly  recalled  his  sister's 
remark  at  the  table,  "They  seem  made  for  each 
other,"  and  he  was  weighing  the  youth  in  his 
mind  as  he  had  never  done  before.  What  sort 
of  care  would  this  beardless  boy  be  able  to  take 
of  so  precious  a  treasure  as  Violet  ?  In  his  rash 
venturesomeness,  his  ignorance  and  inexperi- 
ence, how  could  he  cherish  and  guard  her  as  such 
a  woman  should  be  tenderly  shielded  ?  How — 
and  then  the  doctor  pulled  himself  up  with  a 
tight  rein  once  more,  and  turned  his  chair  a  little 
farther  away  from  the  two  still  chatting  confi- 
dentially. 

"Has  Mrs.  Vandyne  ridden  Don  yet  ?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"No ;  we  are  to  go  out  in  the  morning." 

"To-morrow  ?"  queried  the  doctor,  looking  at 
a  calendar  hanging  on  the  wall.  "Isn't  it  the 
20 th,  the  day  for  trustees'  meeting  at  the 
chapel  ?" 

"So  it  is.  I  had  forgotten.  Well,  I'll  get 
somebody  to  take  my  place.  Sturgis  will. 
There'll  only  be  the  minutes  to  read  and  a  few 
notes  to  take  down.  There  isn't  much  business 
on  hand." 

"Don't  you  think  this  matter  of  Hermann 
and  Company  will  come  up  ?" 


48  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Possibly.  But  I  really  don't  see  what  can 
be  done  about  that.  I  met  young  Hermann 
over  at  Mrs.  Vandyne's  the  other  morning.  He 
says  the  store  has  got  to  come  in  compliance  with 
popular  demand.  Of  course,  he  puts  it  rather 
strong;  naturally  he  would,  as  it  is  his  father's 
concern.  But  even  if  a  majority  is  against  it 
when  a  hundred  or  two  men  want  a  thing,  any- 
thing, they  ought  to  have  some  show." 

"You  wouldn't  have  said  that  about  a  tobacco 
and  liquor  store  a  year  ago,  MacDonald,"  said 
Dr.  Strong,  gravely,  after  a  short  silence. 

This  time  it  was  Mac's  turn  to  flush. 

"Oh  ! — er — well,  perhaps  not.  But,  you 
know,  a  man  gets  to  see  things  differently ;  and, 
Doctor,  Mr.  Keith  can't  run  Sylvester  as  he  did 
the  Quarry  village  when  it  was  a  village.  There 
are  a  thousand  people  up  there  now.  They 
simply  won't  stand  it." 

Violet  had  caught  Keith's  name  and  turned 
quickly  around,  in  time  to  hear  his  last  words. 

"And  I'm  not  going  to  stand  any  such  heresy 
as  that,  Mac,"  she  announced,  smiling  as  she 
rose.  "Whatever  are  you  and  the  doctor  talk- 
ing about?  I  think  it  high  time  I  took  you 
home.  Good-night,  dear  Miss  Berdel.  Wait 
just  a  minute,  Mac,  until  I  run  up  to  Mrs.  Bol- 
ton's  room  for  the  recipe." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  49 

She  stood  by  Mac's  side,  tall  and  straight  and 
•winsome  as  a  sunbeam,  while  he  adjusted  a  light 
fleecy  wrap  about  her  head  and  shoulders. 

"Good  night,  Dr.  Strong;  I'll  bring  you  a 
jar  of  spiced  currants  next  time  I  come  to  re- 
mind you  of  your  grandmother,"  she  said  gaily 
as  she  gave  him  her  hand.  Then,  with  an  ex- 
change of  adieus  between  the  men,  they  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness  of  the  thickly-wooded 
walk. 

Dr.  Strong  did  not  at  once  return  to  Berdel. 
He  stood  for  a  long  time  on  the  veranda,  all  the 
gladness  of  his  look  shadowed  more  and  more 
deeply  by  disturbing  thoughts. 

Mac  had  no  sooner  closed  the  gate  than  Violet 
asked  him  a  question :  "What  was  that  you  were 
saying  to  Dr.  Strong,  Mac,  about  the  people  up 
at  the  Quarry  not  standing  Mr.  Keith  ?" 

"We  were  speaking  of  the  store  the  Hermanns 
are  to  open  there.  There  is  need  for  a  larger 
store  than  Mrs.  Brien's.  They  propose  to  buy 
the  old  Library  Hall  and  put  in  a  full  stock  of 
goods — all  sorts — dry  goods,  groceries,  furni- 
ture, shoes,  hats,  and  soon  making  very  much 
such  a  place,  though  on  a  smaller  scale,  of  course, 
as  Hitchcock's  over  in  Standish.  There'll  be 
patronage  enough  to  support  it.  I  don't  believe 
you  know,  Violet,  how  the  Quarry  is  growing. 
4 


50  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

I  heard  Mr.  Stockton  say  a  few  days  ago  that 
he  should  employ  a  hundred  new  men  after  the 
first  of  August.  And  that  means  a  lot  more  new 
houses  this  fall." 

"Why  doesn't  Mr.  Keith  approve  of  this  new 
store  ?"  inquired  Violet,  by  way  of  reply. 

"Because  tobacco  and  beer  will  be  sold  there, 
I  suppose." 

A  long  drawn  and  very  expressive  "Oh !"  was 
Violet's  first  answer,  quickly  followed  by:  "But 
you  don't  think  that  is  right  either,  do  you, 
Mac  ?  You  didn't  once,  I  know." 

Mac  felt  an  uncomfortable  twinge  at  this 
second  reference  within  an  hour  to  his  former 
views.  But  he  responded  easily  enough  :  "Oh  ! 
of  course,  I  think  it  is  a  great  deal  better  for 
some  men  not  to  smoke  and  drink.  But  I  be- 
believe,  too,  that  one  man  can't  dictate  to  another 
about  these  things.  Every  one  is  responsible  for 
himself.  Let  every  one  then  judge  for  himself." 

"But,  Mac,  that  isn't  the  way  Christ  taught 
us  to  do,  is  it  ?  Suppose  you  had  not  taken  the 
glass  away  from  Andy  that  day.  Maybe  no  one 
else  would  ever  have  cared,  and  he  wouldn't  be 
the  splendid  strong  man  for  all  right  things  he 
is  now.  Don't  you  think  we  really  are  our 
brother's  keepers  in  some  ways  ?" 

?  Violet,"  said  Mac,  with  more  impati- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  51 

ence  in  his  voice  than  she  had  ever  heard  before, 
don't  you,  too,  turn  preacher.  It's  bad  enough 
to  have  Mr.  Keith  and  Louise  keeping  watch  of 
a  fellow  all  the  time." 

"Why,  Mac,"  began  Violet,  with  some  spirit, 
"I  was  only  speaking  of  the  store  and — 

"Yes,  dear,  I  know,"  interrupted  Mac,  lay- 
ing his  hand  over  hers,  swiftly  penitent  for  his 
rough  speech.  "And  I  was  a  bear  to  be  cross. 
Forgive  me  and  tell  me  how  you  like  Lorna 
Doone.  I  saw  you  reading  it  this  morning." 

"I  think  Lorna  is  a  sweet  girl,  but  John  Ridd 
is  fine!"  replied  Violet,  appeased  at  once,  as 
she  always  was  by  a  kind  word.  "He  is  so  simple 
and  so  strong  for  what  he  thinks  to  be  right,  like 
Mr.  Keith  or  Dr.  Strong,  don't  you  think, 
Mac?" 

"I  think  he  was  uncommonly  strong  with  his 
fists  on  occasion,"  laughed  Mac.  "I  don't  know 
that  I  admire  him  particularly,  except  for  his 
splendid  physique.  And  that  reminds  me  of 
Don,  Mrs.  Vandyne's  new  horse.  We'll  ride 
over  in  the  morning  and  show  him  to  you." 

"Is  he  named  for  you,  Mac  ?" 

"Yes.  Wasn't  it  nice  of  her  to  do  that  ?"  he 
cried.  "I  tell  you,  Violet,  she  is  the  best  friend 
I  ever  had." 


52  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Violet  was  so  amazed  at  this  unexpected  re- 
mark that  she  stood  quite  still  in  the  pathway. 

"Why,  MacDonald  Caldwell,  what  do  you 
mean  ?"  she  exclaimed.  "You  haven't  known 
her  but  a  few  weeks,  and  yet  think  her  a  better 
friend  than  Mr.  Keith,  or  Jeanie,  or  Mrs.  Eliot, 
or  Louise,  whom  you've  known  always." 

Mac  couldn't  help  laughing  at  the  horrified 
way  in  which  she  spoke,  but  he  had  the  grace  at 
the  same  time  to  blush  hotly  in  the  darkness. 

"Oh!  well,  perhaps  I  don't  mean  quite  that, 
Violet,"  he  explained,  rather  lamely.  "But,  you 
see,  all  the  home  folks  never  seem  to<  think  I'm 
grown  up.  Why,  I'll  be  twenty-one  next  Octo- 
ber." 

Violet  glanced  up  at  the  tall,  finely  developed 
figure  of  her  companion. 

"You're  a  good  deal  larger  than  you  were 
when  you  came  to  Sylvester  Hall,  taller  and 
broader,  and  you  didn't  have  then  that  beautiful 
mustache  you  are  so  fond  of,  but  I  don't  see  as 
you  are  any  more  'grown  up'  in  other  ways," 
she  said,  saucily,  as  they  ascended  the  front  steps 
at  Little  Acorns.  "If  you  really  are,  though,  I 
must  be  more  respectful!  Good  night,  Mr. 
Caldwell!" 

She  swept  him  a  mocking  courtesy  and  was 
gone.  Her  merry  laugh  rang  in  his  ears  during 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  53 

his  walk  across  the  lawn  to  his  own  home,  and 
some  of  her  direct  words  lingered  in  his 
thoughts. 

But,  though  Violet  could  jest  while  with  him, 
her  heart  was  heavy.  For  the  first  time  since 
the  bright  day  four  years  gone  by,  when  Mr. 
Keith  had  brought  him,  a  tall,  slender  lad,  to 
her  English  home,  a  cold  little  doubt  crept  in 
beside  her  love  for  him  and  chilled  her  with  a 
vague  apprehension  of  coming  sorrow. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  PROBLEM. 

"Little  Acorns  Mission  Chapel"  had 
-L  been  wonderfully  blessed  during  the 
nearly  four  years  of  its  life.  Forty  members 
were  received  by  Mr.  Keith  on  the  beautiful 
October  day  of  its  dedication.  Now  the  roll 
numbered  two  hundred,  more  than  one-third  of 
whom  were  workmen  of  the  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Robert  Stockton,  chief  superintendent  of  the 
Quarry  Works,  was  an  earnest  Christian,  who 
had,  so  far  as  possible,  employed  only  such  men 
as  were  willing  to  be  temperate  in  their  habits 
and  to  observe  the  Sabbath  as  a  day  of  worship 
and  of  rest.  With  Mr.  Keith's  active  co-opera- 
tion, this  had  not  been  a  difficult  matter  to  con- 
trol during  the  early  days  of  the  Quarry  vil- 
lage; but  since  the  capacity  of  the  works  had 
been  greatly  enlarged  a  number  of  families  had 
come  in  who  held  quite  different  views.  Little 
by  little  their  influence  had  extended  among 
those  of  their  neighbors  not  very  decided  either 
way  until  an  undesirable  condition  of  things  was 
fast  being  established,  and  both  Mr.  Keith  and 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  55 

Mr.  Stockton  felt  that  something  must  be  done 
to  counteract  it. 

Hence  the  special  meeting  of  the  trustees  of 
the  chapel  to  which  Dr.  Strong  made  reference 
in  conversation  with  Mac.  It  was  called  for  ten 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  July  26th.  Promptly 
at  the  hour  all  were  present  with  the  exception 
of  MacDonald  Caldwell.  They  were  five  in 
number — Mr.  Standish,  who  had  given  the 
money  for  building  the  chapel ;  Miss  Janet  Syl- 
vester, wrho  first  began  mission  work  in  the  hill 
before  the  present  quarry  works  were  estab- 
lished, and  for  whose  home  the  chapel  had  been 
named ;  Dr.  Strong,  who,  during  his  three  years' 
residence  in  the  neighborhood,  had  been  a 
staunch  friend  and  supporter  of  the  little 
church;  Andy  Graham,  a  foreman  at  the 
quarry,  a  Agged  Scotchman,  once  a  hopeless 
drunkard,  and  MacDonald  Caldwell.  Through 
MacDonald's  instrumentality  Andy's  reforma- 
tion began,  and  by  God's  continued  grace  it  had 
kept  on  until  he  wyas  a  power  for  good  among 
the  men  around  him.  The  two  latter  had  been 
the  first  converts  and  the  first  to  unite  with  the 
chapel  at  its  dedication. 

Keith  Dennet,  pastor  of  the  church  from  its 
start,  an  ex-officio  member  of  •  the  board,  had 
been  invited  to  preside  at  this  special  meeting. 


56  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Mr.  Stockton  and  Robert  Graham,  Andy's 
father,  the  two  elders,  and  James  Sturgis  and 
Henry  Brown,  the  two  deacons,  had  been  invited 
also  to  attend  its  session.  For  the  perplexing 
question  of  the  proposed  new  store  was  to  be  the 
chief  subject  of  discussion,  and  every  one  felt 
that  the  united  wisdom  of  the  entire  corps  of 
church  officers  was  needed  for  the  solution  of  the 
problem. 

Mac's  absence  was  noted  by  them  all,  but  no 
comment  was  made  except  that  James  Sturgis 
said  he  had  been  requested  by  Mac  to  take  his 
pla.ce  as  secretary. 

"Let  us  ask  God  to  be  with  us,  brethren,"  said 
Keith,  rising. 

"Dear  Father  in  heaven,  we  thank  thee  for 
the  countless  blessings  thou  dost  richly  shower 
upon  us.  Accept  our  praise  for  aft  thy  mercies 
and  hear  our  prayer  for  a  continuance  of  thy 
love.  Wilt  thou  be  with  us  to-day  in  an  es- 
pecial way.  Give  us,  each  one,  thy  Holy  Spirit 
to  quicken  and  direct  our  thoughts,  to  strengthen 
our  hearts,  to  lead  us  to  all  right  decisions.  Thou 
knowest,  dear  Father,  the  whole  matter  that  lies 
before  us.  Thou  hast  wrought  great  things  here 
through  us.  Help  us  to  feel  sure  that  thou  wilt 
still  use  us  for 'the  helping  of  these  needy  souls 
and  for  the  glory  of  thine  own  great  name. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  57 

"Take  from  us  now  everything  which  stands 
between  us  and  thee.  Make  us  strong  and  will- 
ing and  eager  to  do  thy  holy  will,  for  Jesus' 
sake.  Amen." 

"I  would  suggest,  Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Mr. 
Standish,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "that  we  dis- 
pense with  all  formalities  for  the  present  at 
least,  and  talk  over  the  matter  which  has  called 
us  together  heart  to  heart.  .  And  for  one,  I 
would  like  to  hear  first  from  Brother  Stockton 
as  to  the  precise  state  of  affairs  at  the  Sylvester 
Quarry.  How  many  families,  do  you  think, 
Brother  Stockton,  are  likely  to  sympathize  with 
us  and  to  work  with  us  against  the  opening  of  a 
liquor  shop  in  the  village  ?" 

"There  are  now  on  our  pay-roll  one  hundred 
and  sixty-five  names ;  nearly  all  the  men  are 
married,  and,  I  suppose,  they  represent  an  ag- 
gregate of  say  five  hundred  souls.  I  think  we 
might  call  that  number  the  maximum  for  the 
village,  though  it  is  commonly  estimated  at 
nearer  one  thousand,  taking  in  the  two  or  three 
outlying  settlements  over  the  mountain,  settle- 
ments which  will  patronize  the  Sylvester  stores 
very  largely  in  preference  to  those  in  Standish. 

"Of  these  one  hundred  families  fifty  are 
represented  on  our  church  roll,  and  twenty  are 
regular  attendants  at,  at  least,  one  service  a  day 


58  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

with  children  in  the  Sunday-school.  That  leaves 
say  thirty  families  on  whom  we  have  as  yet  no 
hold.  A  few  of  these  are  among  the  older  em- 
ployees of  the  Quarry,  but  most  of  them  have 
come  to  us  within  the  last  year.  They  are 
foreigners,  largely  Germans,  Italians  and  Irish 
from  the  abandoned  stone  works  on  Monk's 
Head  Mountain  over  in  the  next  county.  While 
they  have  proved  themselves  good  workmen  in 
the  main,  they  are  a  rough  lot.  From  the  first 
they  have  shown  signs  of  displeasure  at  the  ab- 
sence of  grog-shops  in  the  village,  and  have 
grumbled  openly  at  being  obliged  to  go  so*  far  as 
Standish  for  tobacco  and  liquor.  I  have  even 
heard  them  boast  that  there  would  soon  be  ac- 
commodation near  at  hand,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
that  Hermann  and  Company  have  also  heard 
their  talk  and  are  catering  to  this  element,  while 
apparently  setting  up  a  store  for  general  mer- 
chandise." 

"It  appears  then,"  remarked  Mr.  Standisn, 
"that  we  stand  about  two  to  one.  Can  the  two- 
thirds  be  counted  on  to  fight  against  the  sale  of 
tobacco  and  liquor  should  so  decided  a  stand  be- 
come necessary  ?" 

"I  hardly  know,  Mr.  Standish,"  was  Mr. 
Stockton's  rather  hesitating  reply.  "They 
ought  to  do  so,  judging  by  their  previous  course, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  59 

but  public  opinion  is  a  pretty  tough  thing  to 
run  against  sometimes.  I  think  that  we  can, 
without  doubt  or  reverse,  count  on  every  one  of 
oiir  church  members,  can  we  not,  Mr.  Keith?" 

Keith  smiled  slightly. 

"That  surely  should  go  without  saying, 
Brother  Stockton.  But  to  make  assurance 
doubly  sure,  here  is  the  list.  Let  us  get  a  con- 
sensus of  opinion.  I  will  read  each  name.  If 
no  one  expresses  a  doubt,  we  will  consider  that 
member  as  with  us.  Are  you  all  agreed  to  this  ?" 

As  no  dissenting  voice  was  heard,  the  roll  was 
carefully  gone  over. 

But  three  names  were  challenged,  those  of  a 
father  and  two  sons,  Kirby  by  name,  who  had 
been  irregular  in  attendance  at  Sabbath  service 
for  some  time,  and  who  were  known  to  be  keep- 
ing bad  company. 

"The  father's  the  worst  of  the  lot,"  said  Andy 
Graham.  "There's  a  wee  bit  mither,  puir  soul, 
who  keeps  somethin'  o'  a  haud  on  the  lads.  I'll 
go  over  there  the  nicht — they  live  beyond  the 
ridge — an'  mebbe  the  dear  Lord'll  gie  me  a 
word  to  help  them." 

"If  they  are  not  looked  after  speedily,  I'm 
afraid  they  never  will  become  interested  in 
church  matters/'said  Mr.  Sturgis,  a  tall,  spare 
man,  austere  in  feature. 


60  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Nay,  nay,  Brother  Sturgis,  dinna  say  that. 
If  the  Master  could  have  his  patience  wi'  Peter 
an'  wi'  Andy  Graham,  he's  got  plenty  for  a'  the 
rest  o'  mankind,  praise  his  name !"  said  Andy, 
earnestly. 

"What  do  yon  think,  Andy,  as  to  the  general 
sentiment  among  the  men  ?"  asked  Mr.  Stock- 
ton. 

"There's  not  more  than  twenty  or  thirty  of 
'em  that  wants  to  get  their  tobacco  and  heer 
every  nicht,  sir ;  but  they're  a  nasty  lot — beggin' 
your  pardon,  Miss  Janet — and  there'll  be  trouble 
from  'em  sooner  or  later." 

"Why  wouldn't  it  be  a  good  idea,"  suggested 
Janet,  "to  discharge  all  that  sort  of  men  and  so 
get  rid  of  the  disturbing  element." 

"And  then  ?"  queried  Dr.  Strong,  smiling. 

"Why,  get  some  more  in  their  places,  good 
men,  as  has  been  done  heretofore." 

"I'm  afraid  you  do  not  realize,  Miss  Sylves- 
ter," said  Mr.  Stockton,  "how  much  the  good- 
ness of  the  'heretofore'  has  been  due  to  the  lov- 
ing labors  of  Mr.  Keith  and  yourself.  When 
there  were  few  families  whom  you  could  and 
did  reach  personally,  it  was  comparatively  an 
easy  matter  to  control  public  sentiment  and  so 
k»  ep  the  most  of  them  interested.  For  the  last 
few  months  this  has  been  impracticable.  Were 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  61 

we  to  discharge  these  last  comers,  the  chances  are 
against  our  being  able  to  fill  their  places  with 
such  men  as  we  would  choose." 

"That  is  true  enough  on  general  principles, 
Brother  Stockton,"  replied  Mr.  Standish.  "But 
why  may  we  not  follow  Miss  Janet's  sugges- 
tion in  part,  if  not  in  toto?  If  a  dozen  of  the 
strongest  advocates  of  the  sale  of  tobacco  and 
liquor  in  Sylvester  were  to  be  discharged  on 
that  ground,  and  the  reason  clearly  stated  to  the 
whole  corps  of  workmen,  while  at  the  same  time 
the  management  of  the  Quarry  should  announce 
that  no  man  using  tobacco  or  liquor  would  be 
employed  by  them  in  the  future,  would  the  moral 
effect  not  be  just  what  we  desire  ?" 

"Undoubtedly,"  was  Mr.  Stockton's  response. 
"But  at  the  same  time  more  than  half  of  the  men 
would  leave  us.  Your  broom  is  a  very  sweeping 
one,  Brother  Standish.  Walk  through  the 
Quarry  village  some  evening  about  sundown  and 
count  the  pipes  on  the  front-door  stones.  '"No 
liquor'  might  possibly  do  for  a  shibboleth  for 
the  Sylvester  Stone  Works ;  'no  tobacco'  would 
shut  them  down." 

"I  fully  agree  with  Mr.  Standish  that  such  a 
condition  as  he  suggests  should  be  attached  to 
the  employment  of  every  man  at*  the  Quarry," 
said  Dr.  Strong,  speaking  with  unusual  earnest- 


62  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

ness.  "And  I  hope  to  live  to  see  the  day  when  it 
is  done.  But  for  the  present  generation  of  mid- 
dle-aged men  such  a  question  is  not  to  be  con- 
sidered. With  the  children  we  may  and  should 
do  much.  But  in  regard  to  the  use  of  liquor,  I 
see  no  reason  why  a  strong  hand  should  not  im- 
mediately be  taken.  How  much  of  the  stock 

«> 

of  the  Sylvester  Quarry  Works  is  represented 
right  here  ?  Is  there  any  objection  to  a  state- 
ment, Mr.  Standish?" 

"None  in  the  world,  with  your  permission, 
Janet.  I  believe,  Doctor,  that  thirty-five  per 
cent,  of  the  stock  is  owned  by  Miss  Sylvester 
and  myself;  fifteen  per  cent,  by  John  IT.  Mor- 
ris, of  Standish ;  thirty  per  cent,  by  the  heirs 
of  Dana  Brooks,  of  New  York  City,  and  the  re- 
maining twenty  per  cent,  is  scattering." 

"I  thank  you.  John  Morris  will  vote  with 
you  and  Miss  Janet.  He's  sound  on  the  liquor 
question.  That  will  give  fifty  per  cent.  Now, 
why  can't  we  get  control  of  enough  of  the  re- 
maining stock  to  give  us  a  majority  ?  Five 
shares  would  be  enough,  would  it  not?" 

"No;  ten.  We  require  two-thirds  vote  for  a 
majority." 

"Well,  ten.    At  what  is  it  selling  now  ?" 

"Our  last  sales,  two  months  ago,  were  made  at 
$125." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  63 

"Very  well.  I  will  take  two  shares  of  the 
ten  necessary  to  give  us  control.  Provided,  of 
course,  this  plan  meets  the  approbation  of  all 
concerned,"  the  doctor  concluded  with  a  smile. 

"I'll  tak  one,"  said  Robert  Graham,  promptly. 

"Before  following  out  any  further  Dr. 
Strong's  practical  suggestion,"  remarked  Keith, 
"might  it  not  be  well  for  a  committee  from  this 
meeting  to  wait  on  Hermann  and  Company  and 
confer  with  them  on  the  matter  ?  It  may  be  that 
when  they  fully  understand  our  position  they 
will  make  a  compromise,  at  least  so  far  as  the 
sale  of  liquor  is  concerned." 

"I  fear  the  wish  is  father  to  the  thought  in 
your  case,  Brother  Dennet,"  responded  Mr. 
Stockton.  "Hermann  and  Compan-  is  not  that 
sort  of  a  corporation.  They  have  made  all  their 
money  from  whiskey,  disguise  it  as  they  may. 
I  understand,  too,  that  the  late  Mr.  Vandyne 
was  one  of  the  company,  and  that  Mrs.  Vandyne 
came  out  here  with  an  eye  to  business." 

"Well,  brethren,"  said  Keith,  rather  hastily, 
"our  business  is  to  get  rid  of  this  plague  spot  up 
at  the  Quarry.  What  is  your  opinion  as  to  the 
advisability  of  an  interview  with  Hermann  and 
Company  ?" 

"It  can  do  us  no  harm,  Mr.  Keith,"  Mr. 
Standish  made  answer.  "I  will  move,  sir,  that 


64  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

a  committee  of  three,  of  which  our  pastor  shall 
be  chairman,  be  appointed  from  this  meeting  to 
lay  the  matter  in  all  its  interests  before  Her- 
mann and  Company,  with  a  view  to  the  non- 
opening  of  a  liquor  department  in  their  pro- 
posed store  at  the  Sylvester  Quarry,  and  to  re- 
port at  our  next  meeting." 

The  motion  was  seconded,  put  and  carried, 
and  Mr.  Stockton,  with  James  Sturgis,  ap- 
pointed on  the  committee. 

"And  now,  brethren,"  spoke  up  Robert  Gra- 
ham, "I'd  lak  to  have  somethin'  done  about  Dr. 
Strong's  notion  o'  gittin'  control  o'  the  whole 
business  oop  ta  t'  Quarry.  To  my  mind  that's 
the  quickest  'n  surest  way  o'  managin'  the  whole 
business.  Your  ain  coo  is  handier  to  milk  than 
your  neighbor's.  There's  nae  half  way  work  in 
the  devil.  Gi'  him  a  crack  to  peep  through  an' 
he'll  wiggle  his  whole  pesky  body  in.  We  can't 
fight  him  off  in  any  palaverin'.  So  lang  as  ane 
drop  o'  whiskey  can  be  found  oop  ta  t'  Quarry, 
so  lang  we'll  hae  to  fight.  I'll  tak  two  o'  them 
shares,  brethren." 

"I'll  buy  five,"  said  Janet,  quickly. 

"And  I  five,"  added  Mr.  StanJish. 

"That's  the  dear  Lord's  ain  wurk,"  exclaimed 
Robert,  jubilantly.  "]SToo,  brethren,  we'll  hae 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  65 

four  mair  than  enough  o'  t'  votes  to  decide 
things.  Is  that  richt,  Dochter  ?" 

'"'That  is  right,  Kobert,"  Dr.  Strong  declared. 
''Xow  the  next  question  is,  How  can  the  pur- 
chase be  made,  and  how  soon  ?" 

"I  will  gladly  undertake  that,"  volunteered 
]\Ir.  Standish.  "We  have  a  meeting  on  the  fif- 
teenth of  August,  and  it  can  doubtless  be  ar- 
ranged then.  Let  me  suggest,  however,  that  the 
matter  be  kept  entirely  to  ourselves.  We  have  a 
wily  foe  to  meet,  and  cannot  be  too  constantly 
on  our  guard." 

So  it  was  settled,  and  the  meeting  was  ad- 
journed until  the  fifteenth  of  August. 


CHAPTEK  VI. 

A  MORNING  RIDE. 

LEAVING  the  chapel,  the  group  of  friends 
separated,  Mr.  Staridish  and  Dr.  Strong 
riding  in  one  direction,  while  Mr.  Stockton  and 
the  others  walked  up  to  the  Quarry. 

Keith  and  Janet  strolled  slowly  down  the 
mountain,  talking  over  matters  recently  under 
discussion. 

Suddenly  she  asked,  "Keith,  where  was  Mae 
this  morning  ?" 

Scarcely  had  she  uttered  the  words  before 
merry  voices  were  heard,  and  a  party  of  eques- 
trians came  galloping  towards  them. 

Foremost  were  Mac  and  Mrs.  Vandyne; 
closely  following  came  Mark  Standish  with  his 
sister,  while  Violet  and  Louise  were  at  some 
little  distance  behind. 

Caps  were  raised,  bows  and  smiles  and  a -few 
gay  words  exchanged,  then  the  lively  cavalcade 
passed  on. 

"Your  question  is  answered,  Jeanie,"  re- 
marked Keith. 

"It  is  strange  he  should  have  forgotten  the 
meeting." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  67 

"He  did  not  forget,  Jeanie,  Did  you  not 
hear  Stnrgis  say  that  Mac  asked  him  to  take  his 
place  ?" 

"Yes — so  he  did.  It  is  not  like  Mac  to  do 
anything  of  this  kind.  Do  you  think  the  girls 
knew  of  the  meeting  ?" 

"Probably  not — unless  Louise  might.  She 
usually  knows  most  things  that  are  going  on." 

Janet  gave  a  swift  glance  at  Keith's  troubled 
face. 

"There !"  she  thought.  "He's  all  down  again 
over  Mac.  I  cannot  understand  it.  I  wish  I 
Ladn't  said  what  I  did." 

"Keith,"  she  said  aloud,  "Marcia  and  I  want 
to  get  up  a  little  entertainment  for  the  chapel 
children,  all  the  Quarry  children,  in  fact,  as  a 
s«  rt  of  preliminary  to  the  organization  of  a 
Loyal  Legion.  We  thought  of  having  a  supper 
on  the  lawn  at  Little  Acorns  and  some  music. 
I  know  Dr.  Strong  will  play  something  himself 
and  will  arrange  a  little  orchestra,  Mark  and 
Joe  Stockton  and  one  or  two  others.  We'll  have 
Mac  give  a  short  talk  on  his  trip  through  the 
Great  Lakes.  You  know  he  has  a  quantity  of 
views,  and  his  stereopticon  can  easily  be  put  in 
order.  And  then  we  want  you  to  give  them  a 
wee  temperance  talk.  What  do  you  think  of  our 
program  ?" 


68  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"It  is  just  the  thing,  Jeanie,  as  your  pro- 
grams always  are.  A  fine  idea.  When  will  it 
all  come  off  ?" 

"Oh!  in  a  week  or  so.  There's  nothing  spe- 
cial to  prepare.  Have  you  anything  to  sug- 
gest?" 

"N-no.  Unless  we  could  get  that  ventrilo- 
quist friend  of  Mac's  over  from  Wiltonburg.  He 
is  capital,  and  the  children  would  be  wild  over 
his  performances." 

"You  are  a  genius,  Keith.  I'll  ask  Mac  for 
his  address  the  first  thing  when  he  comes  home." 

"If  you  could  get  Andy  Graham  to  speak  to 
the  children,  Jeanie,  it  would  be  far  more  help- 
ful to  them  than  anything  I  could  say.  You 
haven't  an  idea  how  they  love  him,  nor  how 
great  an  influence  he  has  over  them." 

"They  love  you  too,  Keith,"  responded  Janet, 
with  jealous  fondness. 

"Yes,  surely;  but  not  as  they  do  Andy.  He 
is  a  wonderful  man,  Jeanie,  wonderful.  I  often 
think  of  our  Saviour  himself  when  I  see  Andy 
with  an  ailing  or  hurt  or  unhappy  child  in  his 
arms,  as  frequently  happens.  ISTo  mother  could 
be  gentler,  and  his  rugged  face  is  almost  divine 
in  its  tender  compassion  and  loving  eagerness 
to  comfort.  When  I  think  of  what  he  was  five 
years  ago,  and  see  how  he  has  developed  every 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  69 

Christian  grace  until  he  is  far  beyond  any  man 
I  ever  knew  of  twice  his  years,  I  am  dumb  with 
wonder." 

"Why  should  you  be,  Keith,  when  you  know 
that  there  is  no  limit  to  God's  willingness  to 
give.  Our  receiving  is  limited  by  our  willing- 
ness to  receive." 

"Yes,  that  is  it,  Jeanie.  Jesus  Christ  emptied 
himself  of  self  more  than  any  other  man  ever 
did,  and  so  he  received  of  the  Holy  Spirit  more 
abundantly.  Well,  there's  very  little  in  Andy 
Graham  that  doesn't  come  straight  from  his 
heavenly  Father.  He  is  a  tower  of  strength  to 
me  in  many  ways." 

"How  can  I  get  him  to  speak  to  the  children, 
do  you  think  ?" 

"Tell  him  your  object.  If  there  is  one  thing 
more  than  another  he  is  interested  in,  it  is  the 
temperance  question.  I  believe  he  would  give 
his  life-blood  willingly  if  he  could  keep  liquor 
out  of  Sylvester." 

Meanwhile  Violet  was  saying  to  Louise  as 
they  rode  along:  "I  wonder  what  is  going  on 
this  morning!  First  we  met  your  father  and 
Dr.  Strong,  then  Keith  and  Jeanie,  coming 
from  the  direction  of  the  chapel ;  and  now  here 
are  Mr.  Stockton  and  Robert  and  Andy  Gra- 
ham and  several  others  going  from  it  the  other 
wav." 


70  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"I  don't  know.  Oh !  yes,  there  was  a  meeting 
of  the  trustees  to  talk  over  the  new  store  up  at 
the  Quarry.  I  think  Mac  must  have  forgotten 
it,  though  it  isn't  like  him  to  forget  such  things. 
I'll  ask  him." 

She  spoke  to  Brownie  and  rode  on  to  Mac's 
side. 

"Mac,  did  you  forget  to  go  to  the  trustees' 
meeting  at  the  chapel  this  morning  ?" 

Violet  heard  the  question  which  straightway 
recalled  to  her  Mac's  ungracious  remark  about 
Louise  the  evening  before,  but  the  wind  blew 
his  reply  from  her. 

"He  says  they  didn't  need  him,"  she  repeated, 
rejoining^  Violet. 

"I  guess  he  means  that  he  didn't  want  to  go," 
laughed  Violet.  "It  must  be  that  Mac  is  get- 
ting lazy.  He  hasn't  felt  disposed  to  do  several 
things  I've  asked  of  him  lately." 

"Well,  he  is  busy,  too,  doing  a  lot  of  copying 
for  papa." 

"What  a  graceful  rider  Mrs.  Vandyne  is, 
Louise!  And  how  well  she  manages  that  fiery 
horse !  Did  you  know  she  had  named  him  Don, 
after  Mac  ?" 

The  color  in  Louise's  cheeks  deepened  as  she 
quietly  answered  that  she  did  not  know  it. 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Violet's  tongue  to  repeat 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  71 

what  Mac  had  said  about  Mrs.  Vandyne  being 
his  best  friend,  but  something  in  Louise's  ex- 
pression checked  her. 

"I  wonder  how  old  she  is !"  she  said  instead. 
"She  looks  like  a  girl,  but  Gay  must  be  ten 
years  old." 

"Garet  is  a  dear  little  thing,  Violet,  I  feel 
sorry  for  her,  for  it  always  seems  to  me  as  if 
she  were  lonely.  She  says  the  strangest  things 
sometimes.  Only  the  other  night  she  asked  me 
if  I  thought  Auntie  Jean  would  sell  Hilda,  and 
how  much  she  would  charge.  'My  mamma,'  she 
said,  'has  heaps  of  money,  and  will  buy  me  any- 
thing, and  I  would  a  great  deal  rather  have  a 
little  girl  than  ever  so  many  parrots.  I  had  a 
parrot  once,  and  it  could  talk,  but  it  couldn't 
love.'  " 

"Poor  little  girlie !  I  wish  she  could  be  more 
with  Jeanie  and  Hilda." 

"What  are  you  two  girls  chattering  about  so 
fast?"  called  back  Mark  Standish.  "Bide  on 
up  here  with  the  rest  of  us." 

Mac  and  Mrs.  Vandyne  had  stopped  their 
horses,  and  were  taking  a  look  at  the  fine  view 
off  across  the  Ammonet  Valley. 

On  the  opposite  horizon  Manoosic  mountain 
stretched  its  curving  length,  broken  here  and 
there  by  sharp  peaks  piercing  the  blue  sky. 


72  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Either  side  of  the  winding  Ammonet  river  lay 
fields  of  grass,  orchards  and  meadows. 

A  little  further  ride  up  the  mountain  would 
hring  the  Quarry  in  sight.  Sounds  from  the 
busy  place  came  to  the  ears  of  the  riders. 

"Let  us  have  a  peep  at  the  workmen,"  sug- 
gested Mrs.  Vandyne,  when  she  had  exhausted 
her  stock  of  adjectives  over  the  pictures  spread 
out  before  them.  "I  asked  Mr.  Stockton,  not 
long  ago,  to  take  me  over  the  Quarry,  but  he 
politely  declined  to  do  so.  'Very  well,'  I  thought 
to  myself,  'I'll  ask  Mac  Caldwell  sometime;  I 
know  he'll  not  refuse  me  anything  I  ask  him.' ' 

This  was  said  with  a  slight  but  flattering 
emphasis  on  the  pronouns,  accompanied  by  a 
brilliant  and  captivating  smile,  while  the  so.t 
di.rk  eyes  looked  straight  into  Mac's. 

He  hesitated  a  moment. 

"I'd  take  you  with  all  the  pleasure  in  the 
world,  Mrs.  Vandyne,  but  it  is  against  the  rules 
of  the  Quarry.  Even  Louise  and  Violet  have 
never  been  allowed  to  go  there  when  the  men 
are  at  work.  There  is  always  more  or  less  danger 
from  the  blasting,  you  know." 

"But  we  need  not  go  near  enough  to  be  hurt, 
And  I  have  such  a  desire  to  see  how  it  is  all 
done.  I  really  must.  I'll  take  all  the  respon- 
slbilitv.  Come!" 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  73 

Again  the  well-modulated,  persuasive  tones, 
which  Mac  found  it  harder  than  he  would  have 
believed  to  resist,  fell  softly  on  his  ear.  Al- 
ready she  had  turned  Don's  head  up  the  road. 

"I  can't  hear  to  refuse  you,  dear  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne,"  he  exclaimed,  laying  his  hand  on  her 
bridle.  "But  it  is  not  safe  for  you  to  go  on 
Don.  "Wait  till  another  time,  and  I'll  bring  you 
in  the  carriage.  There  is  blasting  continually, 
and  there's  no  telling  how  Don  will  take  it." 

"Don  will  do  as  his  mistress  tells  him,"  was 
the  laughing  answer,  "and  the  blasting  can  be 
stopped  for  a  few  minutes,  nicht  wahr?  if  it 
proves  too  startling  for  him.  I  am  going  at  any 
rate.  Will  you  come  ?" 

Her  beautiful  face,  lighted  now  by  a  mock- 
ing smile,  was  turned  back  to  him,  and  a  tanta- 
lizing laugh  rang  out,  as  she  dashed  away.  Mac 
followed  instantly,  calling  back  to  Mark,  "Don't 
bring  the  girls." 

"I  should  say  not,"  was  Mark's  quiet  com- 
ment. "Mac  seems  to  be  losing  his  senses." 

"I  think  Mrs.  Yandyne  is  the  one  who  is  los- 
ing her  senses,"  said  Louise,  quickly.  "Why 
does  she  care  to  go  up  there  among  all  those 
men  ?  And  what  could  Mac  do  but  follow  her  ? 
You  surely  wouldn't  have  left  her  to  go  alone, 
Mark?" 


74  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"If  I  had,  I  guess  she  wouldn't  have  gone 
very  far/'  that  wise  lad  replied. 

Violet  turned  on  him  a  beaming  look. 

"Good  for  you,  Mark,"  she  cried.  "Of  course 
she  wouldn't.  Mac  has  such  a  tender  heart  he 
can't  bear  to  hurt  anybody's  feelings." 

"How  do  you  suppose  she  will  make  out  with 
Andy  ?"  Mark  inquired  of  nobody  in  particular. 
"He's  the  foreman,  you  know,  and  has  orders 
not  to  admit  any  one  without  a  pass  from  Mr. 
Stockton." 

"Perhaps  they  will  arrive  before  the  others 
do,"  suggested  Marcia. 

"Well,  you  may  be  sure  that  whoever  Andy 
left  in  his  place  will  be  stricter  even  than  Andy 
himself.  He  has  his  men  in  fine  discipline.  I 
heard  my  grandfather  say  only  yesterday  that 
half  the  success  of  the  Quarry  was  due  to  Andy 
Graham." 

"And  all  he  is  is  due  to  Mac,"  said  Louise, 
her  eye  kindling  at  the  thought. 

"It  seems  odd,  doesn't  it,  that  Andy  is  the 
one  now  to  straighten  Mac  out  ?"  was  Mark's 
unexpected  rejoinder. 

"Straighten  Mac  out?"  quoted  Louise,  indig- 
nantly. "What  in  the  world  do  you  mean, 
Mark?" 

"Why,  isn't  Andy  to  be  the  one  who  will  tell 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  75 

Mrs.  Vandyne  that  she  can't  ride  about  through 
the  works  at  her  own  sweet  will,  and  won't  that 
be  just  the  same  as  telling  Mac  that  he  ought  to 
have  known  better  than  to  bring  her  there,  as  he 
had  ?" 

"]STow,  Mark,  it  isn't  Mac's  fault  at  all.  He 
had  no  idea  when  he  started  out  with  her  that 
she  would  want  to  go  there.  They  came  over 
to  show  Don  to  \riolet  just  as  we  had  gone  to 
ask  her  to  ride  with  us,  and  we  all  came  to- 
gether without  any  special  place  in  view  to  go 
to."  Louise  spoke  with  a  good  deal  of  decision. 

"Oh !  well,  Louise,  I  won't  quarrel  with  you 
over  Mac.  We  all  know  he  can't  do  wrong  in 
your  eyes.  But  when  I  choose  a  companion  for 
a  ride  it  won't  be  a  person  who  is  subject  to 
whims  and  things." 

Again  Violet  laughed. 

"Only  hear  him,  girls !  One  would  think 
him  fifty  at  the  very  least,  Mark,  dear,  here  is 
a  little  poem  for  you  to  cogitate  over  some  time : 

"  'When  a  woman  will,  she  will, 

An'  you  may  depend  on  't ; 
When  she  won't,  she  won't, 
And  there  's  the  end  on  't.' 

"Let's  go  down  and  see  Miss  Berdel  a  little 
while,  all  of  us." 

"I  promised    Mamma  I  wouldn't  stay  out 


76  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

long,"  said  Marcia.  "She  needs  me  at  home 
this  morning." 

"I'll  stay  with  you  then,  Marcia,"  announced 
Mark.  "Suppose  we  go  around  by  the  lily  pond 
and  get  some  lilies  for  Mamma."  They  gal- 
loped off  to  the  right,  while  Violet  and  Louise 
took  the  shady  road  leading  down  the  mountain 
towards  Bird's  Nest,  as  the  Strongs  called  their 
cosy  home. 

After  Mac  had  overtaken  Mrs.  Vandyne,  he 
rode  beside  her  in  silence,  rather  perplexed  as 
to  what  was  to  be  done. 

During  the  six  weeks  and  more  since  he  had 
known  her  he  had  been  growing  more  and  more 
fascinated  by  her  beauty,  her  gracious  manner, 
and  most  of  all  by  the  deference  she  paid  him 
and  the  unfailing  sympathy  she  showed  him  for 
his  opinions  on  all  subjects  but  one.  He  did  not 
then  realize  it,  but  he  afterwards  recalled  the 
fact  that  he  never  spoke  with  her  concerning 
anything  connected  with  his  spiritual  life. 

It  was  Mac's  first  acquaintance  with  a  woman 
of  the  world.  He  admired  her  beauty  ardently, 
the  brilliance  of  her  intellect  as  well  as  the  keen- 
ness of  her  satire  attracted  him ;  he  felt  the  mag- 
netism of  her  personality.  Had  any  one  at- 
tempted to  convince  him  of  other  phases  of  her 
complex  character,  he  would  have  shrunk  back, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  77 

appalled,  and  refused  to  believe  what  he  heard. 

And  he — impulsive,  generous,  noble,  impres- 
sionable, fine — his  character  was  unrolled  before 
her  experienced  eye  as  a  map.  She  was  incap- 
able of  understanding  the  strong  points  of  a 
nature  like  his ;  its  weaknesses  she  knew  by  heart 
before  she  had  been  with  him  an  hour.  For 
purposes  of  her  own,  she  was  playing  on  them 
deftly,  unscrupulously,  with  no  thought  or  care 
that  the  beautiful  instrument  of  a  human  heart 
would  be  marred  under  her  touch. 

As  they  drew  nearer  the  lower  entrance  to  the 
Quarry,  Mac  made  one  more  effort  to  induce  her 
to  give  up  her  visit  there.  But  in  vain.  With 
a  gay  retort  she  turned  him  off  and  leaned  to- 
WLrds  Andy,  who  stood  at  her  horse's  head. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Graham!"  she  began, 
with  suave  courtesy.  "I've  been  asking  Mac  fo 
take  me  through  the  Quarry,  but  he  thinks  it 
may  be  dangerous.  What  is  your  opinion  ?" 

Andy  gave  a  keen,  comprehensive  glance  at 
the  graceful  figure  on  the  pawing  horse.  His 
hat  was  in  his  hand,  but  no  answering  smile 
brightened  his  face.  He  moved  nearer  to  Mac. 

"Have  you  a  pass,  Master  Mac  ?"  he  asked. 

"No,  Andy,"  answered  Mac,  wondering  why 
he  should  feel  so  much  like  a  very  small  boy. 
"I— T— we,  that  is—" 


78  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Oh!  never  mind  trying  to  explain,  Mac/' 
said  Mrs.  Vandyne,  coming  to  the  rescue.  "The 
fact  is,  Mr.  Graham,  he's  been  trying  to  dissuade 
me  from  coming,  says  it's  against  the  rules  or 
some  other  equally  silly  thing.  Now,  you  know, 
there  are  always  exceptions  to  all  rules." 

"Not  at  a  quarry/'  ma'am,  when  there's  such 
work  goin'  on  as  we're  doin'  to-day.  Mr.  Mac  is 
right.  It's  no  place  for  ladies,  nor  horses  either 
like  yours,  ma'am." 

"But  you'll  surely  let  us  in,  now  that  we've 
ridden  all  the  way  up  here,  won't  you,  Mr.  Gra- 
ham ?  We'll  just  ride  quickly  through  without 
stopping  at  all  or  we'll  only  go  to  the  top  of  that 
hill  and  look  down.  Come  up,  Don." 

She  spoke  softly  to  her  horse  and  gave  the 
reins  a  swift  jerk,  her  idea  being  to  pass  Andy 
before  he  knew  it,  feeling  certain  that  he  would 
not  prevent  Mac's  following. 

But,  quick  as  she  was,  a  hand  of  steel  was 
quicker,  and  Don  was  thrown  on  his  haunches. 
Then  Andy  turned  him  and  led  him  a  few  paces 
down  the  road. 

"Gude-mornin'  to  you,  ma'am ;  gude-mornin', 
Master  Mac,"  was  all  he  said,  standing  there, 
cap  in  hand. 

Mrs.  Vandyne  was  furious,  but  wise  enough 
to  curb  her  anger  in  Mac's  presence.  They  rode 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  79 

on  without  speaking  for  some  distance.  Mac 
was  angry,  too,  but  lie  knew  that  nothing  he 
could  do  or  say  would  move  Andy  a  hair's 
breadth,  and  for  his  companion's  sake  he  re- 
frained from  saying  what  he  felt. 

"You  seem  to  have  a  man  of  deeds,  not 
words,  to  guard  the  quarry  gate,"  she  said  at 
length  when  sure  that  her  voice  was  under  con- 
trol. 

"I  never  knew  Andy  to  be  quite  so  rude," 
was  Mac's  response,  in  instinctive  defense  of  the 
Scotchman's  summary  proceedings.  Mac  had 
not  heard  the  low-spoken  word  to  Don  which  did 
not  escape  Andy's  alert  ears. 

"Oh!  well,  that  class  of  people  never  know 
their  places."  The  sneering  words  jarred  on 
Mac,  but  were  speedily  forgotten  when  she 
added,  in  her  most  winning  tones,  "Now  come 
home  with  me  to  luncheon,  and  let  us  forget  all 
this  disagreeable  business.  Marie  is  making  a 
delicious  salad.  But  we'll  have  our  ride  through 
the  quarry  yet,  you  see !" 

With  a  roguish  glance  she  challenged  him  to 
a  race,  and  off  they  flew. 

Just  before  reaching  Bird's  Nest  they  met 
Louise  and  Violet  returning  from  their  call  on 
Miss  Berdel. 

"O  Mac!"  said  Louise,  "sister  wants  to  see 


80  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

you  when  you  get  home.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  be- 
fore." 

"All  right,  but  I'm  not  coining  home  until 
after  luncheon.  I'll  be  there  by  two  o'clock."  . 

"Or  three  or  four,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne.  "You  know  we  have  that  book  to  finish 
to-day." 

Again  Mac's  words  about  Mrs.  Vandyne  be- 
ing his  best  friend  came  back  to  Violet,  and  this 
time  she  repeated  them  to  Louise. 

"Can  you  imagine  how  it  is  he  feels  so, 
Louise  ?  I  think  it  is  dreadful,  don't  you  ?" 

"I'd  rather  not  talk  about  it,  if  you  please, 
Violet,"  said  Louise,  so  gently  and  so  sadly  that 
the  tears  sprang  to  Violet's  eyes. 

"Well,  there's  one  thing  sure,"  she  declared 
vehemently,  "I'm  going  to  have  a  talk  with 
MaeDonald  C  aid  well.  Nobody  else  seems  to  be 
doing  a  thing,  and  when  it  comes  to  your  being 
unhappy  about  him  it's  high  time  somebody 
did." 

Louise  watched  Violet  in  amazement  during 
the  delivery  of  this  little  speech.  Surprise,  dis- 
may, and  finally  amusement  crept  over  her  face 
in  succession,  but  amusement  tarried. 

Violet's  fierce  wordis,  uttered  in  the  most 
musical  of  voices,  seemed  so  at  variance  with  her 
fair,  sweet  face  and  loving  nature. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  81 

"There!"  she  went  on,  drawing  a  breath  of 
relief,  "I  feel  better  now,  that  I  see  your  dimples 
coming,  you  dear  Louise." 

"I  wish  you  could  see  yourself  turning  mentor 
to  Mac,"  laughed  Louise.  "I'd  as  soon  think  of 
a  bit  of  mignonette  putting  out  thorns.  You 
can't  scold  if  you  try,  dear,  and,  besides,  the  way 
to  manage  Mac  is  not  to  preach  him  out  of  a 
thing,  but  to  love  him  out." 

Violet  looked  curiously  at  her  friend. 

"Where  did  you  learn  that,  Louise?"  she 
asked,  drawing  Beauty  nearer  to  Brownie. 

"In  my  heart,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

"Well,  then,  we'd  all  better  begin  loving  hiui 
as  hard  as  we  can,"  announced  Violet,  with  an 
air  of  conviction. 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

AT  THE  VANDYKE  COTTAGE. 

"T    WONDER  how  Don  takes  fences,"  re- 

JL  marked  Mrs.  Vandyne,  after  the  girls  had 
left  them.  "I've  a  notion  to  try  that  one  on 
Dr.  Strong's  lot  just  for  fun.  I  see  him  stand- 
ing on  the  porch,  so  he'll  be  handy  if  anything 
happens.  Now  are  you  ready  to  say,  'Oh! 
please,  Mrs.  Vandyne,  I  wouldn't.' ' 

She  imitated  Mac's  tones  of  protest  so 
cleverly,  and  looked  so  like  a  charming,  wilful 
child  determined  to  have  her  own  way,  that 
Mac  could  only  smile,  half  vexed  with  her  as  he 
was. 

Neither  of  them  had  fully  recovered  from  the 
incident  at  the  quarry,  and  Mrs.  Vandyne  found 
relief  in  an  impish  desire  to  do  something  to 
shock  somebody.  She  knew  quite  well  how  Dr. 
Strong  would  regard  her  leaping  fences  along 
the  roadside.  As  for  Mac,  even  if  he  did  disap- 
prove, she  felt  sure  of  her  power  to  placate  him. 

So,  waving  her  hand  by  way  of  farewell  and 
speaking  a  spirited  word  in  Don's  ear,  away  they 
went.  The  horse  took  the  low  fence  easily,  and 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  83 

was  led  higher  and  higher  until  he  had  satis- 
fied his  rider's  ambition. 

"Oh !  you  are  fine,  you  beauty,  you,"  she 
cried,  patting  his  neck  with  caressing  touch. 

"Isn't  he  a  darling  ?"  she  called  to  Mac,  who 
had  watched  the  graceful  manoeuvres  divided 
between  admiration  for  her  skill  and  fears  for 
her  safety.  "He's  worthy  of  his  namesake,  I 
assure  you.  'Now  we'll  go  home  in  sedate,  re- 
spectable fashion,"  she  went  on,  arch  and 
demure,  wheeling  Don  around  beside  Victor. 
"I  wonder  how  our  worthy  neighbor  approves  of 
such  doings  on  the  highway.  Can  you  see  him  ? 
Yes ;  there  he  is,  and  Mrs.  Bolton,  too,  come  out 
to  see  the  show.  Do  you  know,  Mac,  Mrs.  Bol- 
ton is  the  only  person  in  this  whole  place  that 
I'm  afraid  of." 

"Afraid !"  cried  Mac,  turning  to  look  at  her 
in  amazement.  "You  afraid  of  Aunt  Di !  Well, 
that  is  the  funniest  thing  I've  heard  of  this  long 
virile." 

"It  isn't  funny  at  all.  She  simply  takes  all 
my  nerve  out  of  me.  I  never  could  have  put 
Don  through  all  those  leaps  if  I  had  known  she 
was  looking  on.  Ugh !  she  is  like  a  great  spider, 
with  her  big  round  spectacles  and  straight  up 
and  down  back.  It  isn't  often  I  take  an  aver- 
sion, but  I  can't  bear  that  woman." 


84  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Again  her  words  jarred,  but  Mac  noticed  at 
the  moment  that  all  her  brilliant  color  was  gone, 
and,  judging  that  she  was  fatigued  by  her  un- 
usual exercise,  forgot  them  in  his  solicitude  for 
her  comfort. 

They  had  not  much  farther  to  go  before  they 
reached  the  very  pretty  cottage  where  Garet 
stood  awaiting  them. 

"O  mamma!  I'm  so  glad  you've  come  home. 
I've  done  everything  I  could  think  of,  and  it 
isn't  twelve  o'clock  yet." 

"Well — well — child.  Run  in  now  and  tell 
Marie  we  will  have  luncheon  at  once.  Mr.  Mac 
will  be  here.  Where  is  Martin  ?" 

"Let  me  take  the  horses  around,  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne,"  said  Mac,  as  he  lifted  her  down.  "Come, 
Garet,  don't  you  want  a  ride?" 

He  put  her  on  his  own  horse,  Victor,  and 
walked  beside  her,  leading  Don. 

"I  wish  mamma  would  get  me  a  pony.  Won't 
you  please  ask  her,  Mr.  Mac  ?  It  would  be  nice 
to  have  one,  so  I  could  ride,  too.  And  I  think 
a  pony  knows  how  to  love,  don't  you  ?" 

Mac's  face  was  below  hers,  and  he  looked  up 
into  the  large,  dark-lashed  grey  eyes  bent  so 
seriously  down  to  his.  Garet's  eyes  and  deli- 
cately pencilled  eye-brows,  dark  and  straight, 
were  her  chief  beauty.  Otherwise,  her  thin, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  85 

brown  face  was  not  lovely  in  feature.  But  she 
carried  herself  with  a  dignity  and  grace  rather 
unusual  in  a  child,  and  her  disposition  was 
sweetness  itself. 

Mac  thought  her  question  a  strange  one. 

"Why,  yes,  a  pony  can  love ;  Garet,  I  think  it 
would  be  a  fine  thing  for  you  to  have  one  of 
your  own,  and  to  ride  often  with  your  mamma." 

"I'd  be  willing  to  ride  ever  so  far  behind,  you 
know,  Mr.  Mac,"  she  went  on,  in  a  quaint,  eager 
way,  "so  I  couldn't  hear  one  word.  I  could  see 
all  the  trees  and  sheep  and  flowers,  and  oh !  all 
the  beautiful  things;  and  I  wouldn't  mind  so 
very  much,  not  so  very,  if  I  didn't  have  any  real 
person  to  talk  to." 

Again  Mac  gave  a  curious  glance  at  the 
nervous  little  face. 

"But  why  shouldn't  you  ride  with  your 
mamma  or  whoever —  "  he  began. 

"Oh!  hush — sh,"  she  began,  laying  a  soft 
finger  on  his  lips  and  looking  swiftly  behind 
her.  "Mamma  never  likes  me  to  stay  around 
when  she  has  company.  She  always  says,  'Run 
away  with  your  dolly,  sweetheart,'  or  'Gay, 
darling,  there's  something  for  you  in  my  upper 
drawer ;  go  find  it  and  stay  with  Marie.' ' 

Mac  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile  at  her  exact 
mimicry  of  her  mother's  voice  and  tone. 


86  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"But,  you  know,"  she  went  on,  "I  haven't  any 
dolly,  and  there  never  is  anything  in  mamma's 
drawer.  I  used  to  think  there  was,  and  hunt 
and  hunt — but  I  know  better  now.  I  'spose 
mamma  just  says  that  because  it's  polite." 

"But  why  haven't  you  a  doll,  Garet  ?"  asked 
Mac,  thinking  her  an  odd  little  thing,  but  giv- 
ing scant  heed  to  her  last  words.  "Hilda  has 
dozens  of  them.  I  thought  dolls  and  little  girls 
belonged  together." 

"Oh !  I  used  to  have  dollies,  but  I  found  out 
that  they  couldn't  love,  and  it  wasn't  any  fun 
for  me  to  keep  on  loving  them  when  they  didn't 
care." 

By  this  time  they  had  met  Martin,  and  Garet 
was  lifted  down  from  Victor,  but  not  before  she 
had  dropped  a  loving  kiss  on  his  shining  coat. 

"Thank  you,  dear  horse,  for  my  ride,"  she 
said,  then  held  out  her  arms  to  Mac.  "And 
thank  you,  too,  dear  Mr.  Mac,  for  saying  you'll 
ask  mamma  to  get  me  a  pony." 

With  her  hand  holding  tight  on  to  his,  they 
walked  back  to  the  house,  her  tongue  running 
from  one  thing  to  another  almost  faster  than  he 
could  follow.  They  sat  on  the  porch  for  a  few 
minutes  until  Mrs.  Vandyne  came  out,  fresh 
and  lovely  in  a  sweeping  dress  of  some  thin, 
white  stuff,  and  a  crimson  rose  in  her  dark  hair. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  87 

"Come  inside,  Mac.  It  is  much  cooler."  She 
led  the  way  to  a  large,  luxurious,  dimly-lighted 
room,  drew  forward  a  great  wicker  chair,  and 
for  the  first  time  noticed  the  little  girl  beside 
Mac. 

"Now  run  away  to  your  dolly,  sweetheart," 
she  said. 

Mac  and  Garet  exchanged  glances,  his  almost 
unconsciously  given  at  hearing  the  exact  repro- 
duction of  her  own  quotation,  hers  so  wise  and 
droll  that  his  gravity  was  nearly  upset.  Her 
slight  fingers  gave  his  a  significant  grip,  and  her 
pleading  look  was  a  keen  reminder  of  his  prom- 
ise. 

"Let  Garet  have  luncheon  with  us  to-day, 
won't  you,  Mrs.  Vandyne  ?"  he  begged.  "We've 
a  great  secret  to  lay  before  you." 

Mrs.  Vandyne  showed  her  surprise,  but  said, 
carelessly  enough,  "Oh!  I  don't  mind.  Only 
you  must  go  with  Marie  as  soon  as  you  are 
through,  Garet." 

"Oh !  yes,  mamma,  thank  you ;  I  will  indeed, 
the  very  minute,"  she  promised,  overjoyed  at 
the  unexpected  privilege. 

Mac  remembered,  afterward,  that  Garet  did 
not  kiss  her  mother  when  she  thanked  her  as  she 
had  kissed  Victor. 

Luncheon  was  served  very  soon  on  a  thickly- 


88  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

shaded  wide  porch  opening  out  from  the  room 
into  which  Mrs.  Vandyne  first  led  him.  There 
were  many  cool,  tempting  dishes  set  before  them. 
His  hostess  had  never  been  more  vivacious,  more 
charming,  more  fascinating  than  now  he  thought 
as  he  watched  the  play  of  expression  on  her 
bright  handsome  face  and  listened,  half  lazily, 
half  eagerly,  to  her  gay  chatter. 

Garet,  airing  her  very  best  manners,  was 
scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  ate ;  her  ears  and 
eyes  were  wide  open  to  everything  that  went  on. 
So  great  a  treat,  so  enchanting  a  contrast  from 
her  lonely  nursery  meals  was  an  event  to  be 
treasured  up  in  the  store-house  of  her  memory. 
Long,  long  afterwards  she  could  repeat  every 
word  spoken  by  her  two  companions,  reproduce 
every  gesture. 

She  looked  on  with  intense  interest  when  her 
mamma  took  up  a  slender  bottle  of  graceful  de- 
sign and  poured  from  it  into  a  tiny  glass  a  very 
little  of  a  thick  golden  and  greenish  liquid. 

"I  want  you  to  taste  this  cordial,  Mac,  a  de- 
lightful, refreshing  drink,  made  from  a  recipe 
used  by  the  old  Italian  monks  for  the  sick  ages 
ago.  Sometimes  it  is  called  Angelica,  and  I'm 
sure  it  is  heavenly  enough  to  deserve  the  name. 
I  made  this  with  my  own  fair  hands,  so  you 
may  be  sure  it  is  superfine." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  89 

She  brought  it  around  to  his  side  and  held  it 
out  to  him,  smiling  in  the  way  he  had  found  so 
alluring. 

"But,"  he  protested,  smiling  in  return,  and 
taking  the  little  glass  from  her  fingers,  "I  am 
not  sick." 

"And  you  will  not  he  if  you  take  a  drop  of 
this.  It  is  a  preventive  for  every  malady  as  well 
as  a  cure-all." 

He  put  it  to  his  lips  and  drank  the  smooth, 
sweet  contents. 

"It  is  fine,"  he  declared.  "Reminds  me  of  a 
blackberry  cordial  my  mother  used  to  give  me 
when  I  had  eaten  too  many  green  apples." 

"Yes,  it  really  is  an  invaluable  remedy.  Now, 
to  prove  to  you  that  I  have  made  it  well,  you 
shall  taste  this,  which  is  the  genuine  article  from 
sunny  Italy." 

She  raised  another  bottle  and  poured  into  a 
glass  something  identical  in  color  and  consis- 
tency with  the  cordial.  This,  too,  she  brought 
around  to  Mac,  saying  lightly,  "You  can  take 
more  of  this." 

Again  Mac  drank,  and  this  time  beneath  the 
velvet  smoothness  he  detected  a  stronger  ad- 
mixture, For  the  first  time  a  suspicion  flashed 
through  his  mind.  Startled,  dismayed,  but  look- 
ing up  only  to  meet  the  beautiful  eyes  fixed  on 
his,  he  set  down  the  glass. 


90  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"You  don't  like  it  as  well  as  mine!"  she  ex- 
claimed at  once,  clapping  her  hands  softly  in  de- 
light and  appearing  to  take  no  notice  of  his  con- 
fusion. "Thank  you  kindly,  monsieur.  Here- 
after you  shall  have  only  the  Vandyne  brand. 
But  come  now  and  let  us  get  back  into  the  house. 
The  mid-day  sun  burns  too  hotly  out  here,  and 
when  we've  rested  a  bit  we'll  finish  the  poem  you 
are  reading  to  me." 

Still  silent,  hardly  knowing  what  he  wished 
to  say  or  to  do,  he  was  about  to  rise  when  Garet 
stood  at  his  elbow,  holding  in  her  arms  a  huge 
volume  which  she  had  lugged  from  the  library 
unobserved. 

"Please,  Mr.  Mac,  won't  you  find  the  place 
where  it  tells  about  green  wine  ?" 

"Green  wine,  Garet!"  cried  her  mother, 
sharply.  "Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  ? 
What  book  is  that  you  have  there  ?" 

"It  is  the  Holy  Bible,  mamma,"  replied  the 
child. 

Mac  had  lifted  it  from  her  and  laid  it  on  the 
table.  Then  she  climbed  on  his  knee  and  began 
turning  the  pages. 

"Garet,  run  away  directly,"  said  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne.  "I  want  to  take  Mr.  Mac  inside.  I'll 
find  you  the  place  by  and  by." 

"But,  mamma,"  objected  Garet,  her  nimble 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  91 

fingers  busy  with  the  leaves,  "you  know  you 
can't  find  places  in  the  Bible.  You  didn't  even 
know  about  Daniel  and  the  lions  until  I  showed 
you.  The  verse  about  red  wine  is  in  the  book  of 
Proverbs — xxiii.  31.  It  is  on  a  little  card  that  I 
have,  so  I  know,"  and  she  read  slowly,  pointing 
with  one  slim  brown  finger,  "Look  not  thou 
upon  the  wine  when  it  is  red." 

"Now,  Mr.  Mac,  find  where  it  tells  about 
green  wine,  please." 

Mac  could  not  meet  the  clear,  inquiring  look 
of  the  frank,  grey  eyes  as  he  had  the  seductive 
appeal  of  the  flashing  brown  ones.  He  turned  a 
page  or  two. 

"I  think  there  is  nothing  in  the  Bible  about 
green  wine,  Garet,"  he  finally  said. 

The  little  girl  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Oh !"  she  exclaimed,  with  an  air  of  satisfac- 
tion, "I'm  so  glad.  Then  I  guess  it  isn't  wicked 
to  drink  green  wine.  I  watched  when  mamma 
poured  it  out,  for  I  knew  if  it  was  red  you  would 
not  take  any,  because  I  know  you  don't  do 
wicked  things." 

"Margaret  Yandyne,  what  do  you  mean  by 
talking  in  this  way?  It  isn't  wicked  to  drink 
wine.  Whoever  put  such  an  absurd  notion  in 
your  head !  Besides,"  Mrs.  Yandyne  added 
quickly,  softening  her  voice  and  giving  a  covert 


92  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

glance  at  Mac,  "this  isn't  wine;  it  is  only  cor- 
dial. Yon  are  a  very,  very  naughty  little  girl, 
Garet,  and  I  shall  never  let  you  eat  luncheon 
with  Mr.  Mac  and  me  again.  What  do  you  sup- 
pose he  thinks  of  you  ?" 

Slowly  the  long  dark  lashes  were  raised  to  his 
face.  Wistfully  she  searched  for  disapproval 
there;  but  she  did  not  find  it,  only  a  strange, 
troubled  expression  as  he  held  her  close  for  an 
instant,  whispering  in  her  ear,  "You'd  better 
rim  away  now,  Garet,  dear.  I  don't  think  you're 
a  naughty  girl  at  all,  and  I'll  make  it  all  right 
with  your  mamma  about  the  pony." 

And  then  a  kiss,  loving  mate  to  the  one  given 
to  Victor,  fell  on  his  cheek,  and  she  had  slipped 
away. 

"You  will  spoil  the  child,  Mac,"  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne  murmured,  half  chiding,  half  in  jest. 
They  were  passing  across  the  hall.  "She  is  one 
that  cannot  bear  being  made  much  of.  There  is 
a  comfortable  chair.  Stretch  yourself  out  and 
listen  to  this  chapter  from  'The  Furnace  of 
Fire.'  " 

Without  giving  him  time  to  reply,  she  sat  on 
a  divan  quite  near  and  began  reading  vivaciously 
from  a  recent  novel.  She  read  admirably,  and 
knew  well  enough  that  the  picture  she  made,  in 
the  cool  fragrant  room,  restful  and  soothing, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  93 

would  soon  win  her  listener's  mind  from  any- 
thing disquieting.  And  so  it  was.  At  first 
Mac's  thoughts  were  wholly  occupied  with  the 
incident  of  the  luncheon  table.  He  could  hardly 
realize  what  he  had  done.  Then,  in  the  midst  of 
uneasiness  and  dismay,  he  heard  the  palliating 
words,  "Besides,  it  is  not  wine;  it  is  only  cor- 
dial," and  it  was  not  long  until  all  his  attention 
was  fixed  on  the  charming  outlines  and  beautiful 
face  of  the  woman  beside  him,  just  as  she 
meant  it  should  be. 

Breaking  off  without  reason  in  the  middle  of 
a  sentence,  she  suddenly  closed  the  book.  Pull- 
ing a  couple  of  cushions  behind  her  she  half  re- 
clined against  them,  her  fleecy  draperies  lying 
in  a  mass  beside  her,  her  hands  clasped  above 
her  head. 

"You  are  not  like  that  stupid  man,  Mac,"  she 
began,  with  an  abruptness  characteristic  of  her 
caprices.  "You  always  take  a  broad  look  at 
things.  That's  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  like 
you."  Then,  in  a  lower,  softer  tone,  "You  have 
little  idea  what  a  comfort  you  are  to  me,  Mac- 
Donald." 

She  seldom  spoke  his  full  name.  When  she 
did  it  always  seemed  to  him  like  a  caress.  His 
heart  swelled,  but  he  could  think  of  nothing 
to  say.  And  then  she  went  on,  still  speaking 


94:  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

softly,  "No,  a  man  like  you,  fresh  from  college 
days,  with  no  bitter  memories,  no  hard  expe- 
riences, no  struggles  with  a  cruel  world  to  re- 
member, with  the  whole  of  life  stretching  out 
before  your  eager  ambitious  gaze,  can  have  little 
idea  what  it  means  to  have  suffered" — a  mo- 
ment's hesitation — "as  I  have." 

"You !"  cried  Mae,  springing  to  his  feet. 
"Never !  I  cannot  think  of  it" 

"Sit  down  again,  you  foolish  boy,"  came  in 
gentle  accents.  "I  was  just  going  to  say  that 
you  can  have  but  little  idea  what  suffering 
means,  nor  what  a  joy  and  comfort  it  is  to  one 
like  me  to  have  the  loyal  friendship  of  one  like 
you." 

Mac's  eyes  wandered  over  the  faultless  face, 
brilliant  with  health,  showing  no  sign  of  care  or 
sorrow,  except  perhaps  just  now  a  shade  of  sad- 
ness about  the  drooping  eyelids  and  curving 
lips ;  at  the  rich  though  simple  dress  she  wore ; 
at  the  jewels  sparkling  on  her  fingers;  then 
around  the  room  at  the  costly  nicknacks.  None 
of  these  seemed  in  keeping  with  the  suffering 
heart  of  which  she  had  spoken. 

As  usual,  she  appeared  to  divine  his  thoughts. 

"We  women  learn  to  conceal  our  griefs,  dear 
Mac.  You  cannot  judge  of  us  by  what  you  see. 
It  is  only  at  rare  intervals,  when  we  lift  the 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  95 

veil  to  our  chosen,  dearest  friends,  that  our 
wounds  and  scars  are  to  be  seen.  You  are  to  me 
OLe  of  the  dearest  of  these  friends,  Mac.  I  feel 
sure  of  your  regard,  your  confidence.  The  time 
m&y  come  when  I  shall  need  to  lean  on  you.  You 
will  not  fail  me  ?" 

Extending  her  hand,  smiling  again  as  when 
she  handed  him  the  cordial,  she  asked  the  ques- 
tion in  a  confident  tone  which  counted  on  no  re- 
fusal. 

In  a  moment  he  had  pressed  her  fingers  to  his 
lips. 

"ITever !  never !  never !"  The  thrice-repeated 
word  was  uttered  with  all  of  his  impetuous, 
chivalrous  heart.  She  smiled  a  smile  not  quite 
pleasant  to  see,  but  he  did  not  observe  it.  His 
head  was  bent  above  her  hand.  Just  as  he  re- 
leased it  steps  were  heard,  and  a  tall,  handsome 
man  came  quickly  into  the  room. 

"Oh,  Lucille!  forgive  me  my  unceremonious 
entrance.  I  met  Garet  outside,  and  she  did  not 
tell  me  you  had  a  guest,"  he  said,  advancing 
with  easy  grace  and  giving  her  hand  the  same 
salute  which  Mac  had  done.  It  seemed  almost  a 
desecration  to  the  youth's  fevered  thought. 

"It  is  my  neighbor  and  dear  friend,  Mac- 
Donald  Caldwell.  Have  you  not  met  him  be- 
fore? Mac,  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with 


96  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

my  cousin,  Fred  Hermann.  Mr.  Caldwell,  Mr. 
Hermann." 

"Ah!  yes,  I  recognize  you  now,  Mr.  Cald- 
well," said  the  elder  man  as  they  clasped  hands. 
"Lucille  will  keep  her  charming  little  home  as 
dark  as  Egypt.  I  think  I  met  you  at  Howard's 
one  evening  in  Standish.  I  believe  you  were  a 
class-mate  of  his,  were  you  not  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Mac,  standing  uncomfort- 
ably between  the  two,  and  angry  at  the  interrup- 
tion. 

"I  came  over,  Lucille,  to  talk  with  you  in  re- 
gard to  that  little  matter  of  business,"  Mr.  Her- 
mann went  on,  entirely  too  much  at  his  ease 
Mac  thought  gloomily. 

"I  will  say  good-bye  now,  Mrs.  Vandyne," 
spoke  up  Mac,  with  his  usual  grace- of  manner, 
"and  thank  you  for  a  delightful  hour." 

The  adieus  were  soon  made,  and  Mac  walked 
hurriedly  toward  home,  feeling  as  though  he 
had  been  through  a  whirlwind  of  emotion.  He 
had  gone  but  a  short  distance  before  he  saw  an 
erect  little  figure  sitting  on  the  grass  by  the 
roadside.  It  was  Garet,  waiting  to  hear  about 
the  pony. 

"Good  heavens !"  he  ejaculated  below  his 
breath.  "And  I  never  thought  one  word  about 
it!"  He  looked  swiftly  around  for  some  way  of 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  97 

escape,  but  there  was  none,  so  lie  stepped  on, 
wishing  that  the  ordeal  was  over. 

Garet  spied  him  and  came  running. 

"What  did  she  say,  Mr.  Mac?"  she  cried  be- 
fore she  was  near.  Then,  coming  close  enough 
to  see  him  distinctly,  she  stopped  still  and 
clasped  her  hands  together. 

"Oh!  you  forgot!" 

There  was  no  reproof  in  the  simple  statement, 
only  a  hopeless  acceptance  of  the  fact,  more 
touching  by  far  than  the  wildest  reproaches. 

Mac  could  say  nothing.  He  felt  that  he  had 
been  a  selfish  brute  to  so  hurt  this  tender  little 
love-hungry  soul.  Her  quick  instinct  of  sym- 
pathy saw  his  chagrin.  She  slipped  her  hand  in 
his  in  the  most  friendly  way. 

"Kever  mind,  Mr.  Mac,  don't  feel  bad.  I'm 
used  to  being  dis'pointed.  I  guess  it  was  be- 
cause Cousin  Fred  came  in  and  in'rupted  you 
that  you  forgot." 

He  could  not  accept  her  simple,  generous  ex- 
planation. 

"ISTo,  Garet,  dear,  that  was  not  the  reason  at 
all.  I  just  forgot  all  about  you  because — be- 
cause—  Again  he  halted.  Something  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  tell  Mrs.  Yandyne's 
daughter  why  he  had  forgotten  her. 

"Oh !    well,   never  mind,,"   she  said   again. 
7 


98  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"You  know,  Mr.  Mac,  it  says  in  the  Holy  Bible, 
in  the  book  of  Eccle'sticks,  that  there  is  a  time 
to  speak  and  a  time  to  keep  silence.  And  I 
guess  that  must  have  been  the  time  to  keep  si- 
lence." 

"If  you'll  only  trust  me  once  more,  Garet,  I 
won't  disappoint  you.  Do  you  think  you  can  ?" 

He  spoke  with  real  anxiety,  for  he  felt  much 
more  keenly  than  he  showed  his  breach  of  faith 
with  her. 

"Why,  of  course,  I  will,  Mr.  Mac.  I've  got 
to  forgive  you  four  hundred  and  eighty-nine 
times  more  before  I  can  stop,"  was  her  imme- 
diate response. 

"Four  hundred  and  eighty-nine  times, 
Garet!"  he  repeated  in  astonishment,  stopping 
still  to  look  down  at  her.  "What  in  the  world 
do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  you  know  the  Holy  Bible  says  we  must 
forgive  our  brother  seventy  times  seven  times. 
And  I've  only  forgiven  you  once.  And  seventy 
times  seven  is  four  hundred  and  ninety,  and  one 
from  four  hundred  and  ninety  leaves  four 
hundred  and  eighty-nine  times,  doesn't  it?" 

"Yes,  Garet,  it  does,  and  it's  a  comfort  to 
think  there  is  so  much  forgiveness  in  store  for 
me,  from  one  person  in  the  world  at  least,"  he 
responded  as  serious  as  she.  "But,  Garet,  it 


The  Sylvester  Quarry,  99 

seems  to  me  you  know  a  lot  about  the  Bible. 
How  is  that?" 

"You  ought  to  say  the  Holy  Bible,  Mr.  Mac. 
That  is  the  name  on  the  back  of  it,"  she  re- 
minded him,  gravely.  "Oh !  I  read  in  ours 
every  day.  There  are  so  many  beautiful  stories. 
Haven't  you  ever  read  them  ?  Come  over  some 
time  and  I'll  show  you  the  places — and  my 
verse  cards." 

"Thank  you.  And  now  I  think  you  had  bet- 
ter run  back,  dear,"  Mac  said.  "I  don't  like  to 
have  you  so  far  from  home  alone.  Ah !  here 
comes  the  doctor.  He'll  give  you  a  ride.  Dr. 
Strong,  here's  a  passenger  for  you." 

"With  all  the  pleasure  in  the  world,  Miss 
Gay.  And  perhaps  you'd  like  to  drive  my  horse 
for  me.  This  is  one  of  my  lazy  days !" 

So  saying,  after  Mac  had  lifted  her  into  the 
buggy,  he  handed  her  the  lines,  and  they  drove 
off,  Garet  radiant  and  the  doctor  watching  her 
with  amusement. 

As  for  Mac,  he  walked  rapidly  on  towards 
home,  his  eyes  on  the  ground. 

When  Mrs.  Vandyne  returned  from  accom- 
panying Mac  as  far  as  the  porch  she  found 
Cousin  Fred  in  the  dining-room,  helping  him- 
self to  something  from  a  bottle  on  the  side- 
board. 


100  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"How  goes  it  with  the  pretty  boy  ?"  he  asked, 
wiping  his  mustache  as  he  walked  by  her  side 
into  the  sitting-room.  "He  doesn't  love  me 
much  just  now." 

"No,  I  dare  say."  She  laughed  carelessly. 
"But  he  is  tractable.  Tho  first  step  was  taken 
to-day  with  unexpected  ease  and  success." 

"How  much  longer  time  do  you  need  ?" 

"Two  or  three  weeks.  A  month  at  the  out- 
side." 

"So  long?"  He  eyed  her  sharply.  "Why 
don't  you  get  a  crowd  down  and  rush  things  ? 
We've  had  a  letter  from  Dennet  asking  for  an 
interview.  They  will  be  stiff,  of  course,  and  we 
need  to  have  ourselves  well  in  hand." 

"I  know."  Mrs.  Vandyne's  eyes  sparkled. 
"But  Mac  isn't  that  kind.  You  must  let  me 
work  my  own  way.  I've  never  failed  yet  when 
I  set  my  heart  on  a  thing." 

"That's  what  I'm  afraid  of,"  retorted  her 
cousin,  "that  you'll  set  your  heart  on  this 
youngster  and  all  our  plans  will  fall 
through'." 

Mrs.  Yandyne  arose  and  walked  the  length  of 
the  room.  Her  elegant  height,  the  sweeping 
draperies,  the  something  indefinable  of  am- 
bitious pride  in  every  curve  and  movement  com- 
bined to  form  a  picture  which  emphasized  her 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  101 

words.  Coining  close  before  him,  she  stood  quite 
still. 

"Do  I  look  like  a  woman  who  would  waste 
herself  on  a  boy — any  boy  ?" 

The  curt,  proud  tones  rang  clearly  through 
the  room. 

"By  heavens  !  no,  Lucille.  It  was  my  jealous 
fear  that  spoke." 

She  smiled  graciously,  continuing  her 
walk. 

"You  came  to  talk  business  to-day.  Do  you 
know  that  I  have  sometimes  wondered  why  you 
and  Frank  are  so  determined  to  carry  out  this 
scheme  here  at  the  Quarry  ?  It  would  seem  to 
me  such  a  small  concern  at  best." 

Again  the  man  gave  her  a  swift,  sharp  glance 
of  suspicion. 

"What  has  become  of  your  business  instinct, 
Lucille  ?  Don't  you  know  well  enough  that  our 
largest  profits  come  from  our  smallest  sales — 
sales  in  smallest  quantities,  I  mean.  Very  likely 
there  are  less  than  fifty  regular  customers  for 
us  at  Sylvester  now.  Not  much  of  a  clientele 
surely,  but  once  let  us  get  our  liquor  counter 
started,  and  how  long  do  you  suppose  it  will  be 
before  we  have  one  hundred  and  fifty  customers  ? 
Less  than  six  months.  And  in  a  year  Dennet 
will  be  welcome  to  his  handful  of  teetotalers. 


102  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Then,  another  thing,  this  Quarry  is  going  to 
grow.  I  went  down  to  ISTew  York  last  week  and 
saw  the  State  geologist  who  was  recently  here 
with  a  lot  of  prospectors.  He  told  me  that  the 
mineral  resources  of  Ammonet  Mountain 
haven't  begun  to  be  touched  yet.  The  veins  of 
granite  grow  richer  as  they  are  worked ;  and  he 
hinted  at  still  more  valuable  finds  of  marble.  It 
is  an  opportunity  which  we  cannot  afford  to  lose, 
which  we  must  not  lose,  by  heaven!  which  we 
shall  not  lose.  So  beware,  madame,  how  you 
play  fast  and  loose  with  us.  Your  business  is 
to  counteract  the  dominie's  influence  by  win- 
ning over  his  henchman.  See  that  you  do  it — 
and  right  speedily,  too." 

An  ugly  smile  gleamed  upon  the  handsome 
face,  hard  lines  showed  about  the  man's  mouth. 

For  an  instant  a  tiny  spark  of  fire  glowed  be- 
tween Mrs.  Vandyne's  half-closed  eyelids.  Then 
she  said,  settling  herself  down  against  the  pil- 
lows, "Don't  be  cross  to-day,  Fred.  Be  a  good 
boy  and  bring  me  a  glass  of  iced  claret." 


CHAPTEK  VIII. 

THE  SPICED  CURRANTS. 

MISS  JAJSTET  was  up  betimes  the  next 
morning.  She  came  down  to  open  the 
house  before  any  one  else  was  stirring,  setting 
wide  doors  and  windows,  through  which  swept 
the  cool,  delicious  air  of  early  sunrise.  A  heavy 
dew  still  lay  on  grass  aoid  bush,  and  dozens  of 
song-birds  greeted  her  with  their  sweet  rounde- 
lays. Coming  out  on  the  broad  portico  towards 
the  garden  last  of  all,  she  found  Mac  sitting 
there,  his  hat  off,  his  face  upturned  to  catch  the 
breeze. 

"Good-morning,  Mac"  and  "Good  morning, 
Auntie  Jean,"  came  at  the  instant  of  his  spring- 
ing up  to  greet  her.  He  clasped  her  hand  and, 
what  was  not  usual,  bent  his  head  for  a  kiss. 

"Are  you  busy,  Auntie  Jean  ?"  he  asked,. 
"Come,  sit  here  on  this  chair  and  let's  have  a 
talk.  It  is  so  quiet  and  lovely,  don't  you  think 
so?" 

Now,  Janet  had  intended  to  be  very  busy  for 
an  hour  or  so,  stemming  currants,  a  piece  of 
work  to  be  daintily  done,  and  which  she  wished 


104  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

to  have  well  under  way  before  Violet  appeared. 
But  something  in  Mac's  tone  or  manner,  she 
could  hardly  tell  which,  made  her  willing  to  lay 
everything  else  aside.  She  did  not  even  com- 
promise by  bringing  the  currants  to  stem  as  they 
talked. 

"The  most  delightful  time  possible  for  a  con- 
fab," she  assented  at  once,  seating  herself  in  the 
low  wicker  chair  he  brought  forward,  while  he 
took  his  place  on  the  upper  step,  leaning  his 
head  against  her  knee,  as  he  used  to  do  when  he 
first  knew  her.  Her  land  found  its  way  to  its 
old  habit  of  gently  pushing  back  his  soft,  thick 
hair.  So  they  sat  for  some  time,  but  the  "talk" 
did  not  begin. 

Everything  about  them  was  beautifully  still. 
The  jubilant  morning  thanksgiving  of  the  birds 
was  over,  the  sounds  of  daily  life  had  not  yet 
begun  to  stir. 

The  very  peace  of  God  seemed  gently  to  en- 
wrap them.  Minute  after  minute  passed.  Some 
subtle  instinct  of  sympathy  began  to  tell  Janet 
that  a  troubled  heart  had  come  to  her  for  com- 
fort or  for  help.  But  she  wisely  judged  that  it 
should  be  left  to  make  its  own  appeal.  None 
came.  Much  to  her  surprise,  a  clock  struck  six. 
It  had  been  nearly  an  hour  since  she  came  out 
and  found  him  awaiting  her.  Steps  began  to  be 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  105 

heard  within,  voices  floated  out  to  them,  Hilda's 
feet  were  flying  down  the  stairs. 

Then  Mac  lifted  his  head  and  looked  up  at 
her. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  didn't  speak  one  word, 
Auntie  Jean,"  he  said. 

"O  Mac !  Mac !  how  did  you  come  here  ?" 
cried  Hilda,  rushing  across  the  portico  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck  in  a  hug  of 
delight.  "Have  you  had  your  breakfast?" 

"]STot  yet,  Hilda.  I  wonder  if  you  are  going 
to  invite  me, to  have  some  of  yours  ?" 

"Oh !  yes,  indeed.  He  must  stay,  mustn't  he, 
Auntie  ?  I  dess  we  will  have  some  muffins  and 
honey.  An'  oh !  le's  have  some  raspberries  too. 
I  can  show  you  where  the  nicess  ones  are  out 
in  the  garden." 

"Is  that  a  hint  that  I  am  to  pick  them  ?  All 
right.  Come  along,  then,  and  we'll  find  a 
basket." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  into  which  she  promptly 
slipped  hers,  and  they  went  off  around  the  house. 

Scarcely  had  they  disappeared  when  Violet 
came  through  the  doorway. 

"Good-morning,  Auntie !  I  thought  I  heard 
Mac's  voice,"  she  said,  looking  this  way  and 
that. 

"He  and  Hilda  have  just  gone  out  to  the  berry 


106  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

patch  to  gather  a  dishful  for  breakfast.  She  has 
invited  him  to  stay  to  eat  some  of  them  with 
her." 

"How  lovely!  And  then  I'll  invite  him  to 
help  me  stem  currants.  I  have  a  little  lecture 
to  deliver  to  him,  too,  and  that  will  be  a  good 
chance." 

Janet  glanced  up. 

"If  I  were  you,  dear,"  she  said,  "I'd  not  lec- 
ture him,  if  by  that  you  mean  calling  him  to  an 
account  for  something  he  has  or  has  not  done." 

"But  I  think  he  should  be  spoken  to  about 
something,  Jeanie.  He — 

A  restraining  finger  was  laid  on  her  lips. 

"I'd  rather  not  hear,  please,  dear.  I — I  think 
the  dear  boy  is  not  quite  happy  this  morning. 
Suppose  we  both  try  to  be  very  gentle  with  him 
to-day." 

Violet  thought  of  what  Louise  had  said  about 
"loving  him  out." 

"Oh!  then,  of  course,  I  will  not  say  any- 
thing— to-day,  that  is — but  it  will  have  to  come 
sometime." 

Janet  felt  almost  as  much  amused  as  Louise 
had  done  at  the  thought  of  Violet's  taking  one — 
Mac,  most  of  all — to  task,  but  she  made  no  sign 
of  it 

By  the  time  breakfast  was  ready  Mac  and 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  107 

Hilda  had  brought  in  a  heaping  basket  of  the 
beautiful  crimson  berries. 

"So  long  as  we  are  to  have  one  guest,"  ob- 
served Janet,  "why  not  have  two  ?  I  would  like 
to  invite  Louise  to  share  these  beauties  with  us. 
Hilda,  dear,  will  you  run  over  and  tell  Cousin 
Louise  that  we'd  all  like  to  have  her  come  to 
Little  Acorns  to  breakfast,  and  that  we  are 
ready  to  sit  down  ?" 

"Yes,  Auntie  Jeanie,"  the  little  girl  replied, 
scampering  away.  She  found  Louise  cutting 
a  spray  of  roses,  which  she  brought  with  her  and 
offered,  with  her  kiss  of  greeting,  to  Janet.  At 
the  moment  of  her  arrival,  Keith  appeared  on 
the  portico,  and  they  all  went  in  to  breakfast 
together. 

"Is  it  somebody's  birthday  or  what  ?"  Keith 
inquired,  lifting  Hilda  to  her  chair  beside 
Janet's. 

"Oh!  no,  just  an  impromptu  sort  of  feast," 
was  Violet's  reply.  "Mac  came  over  to  pay 
Jeanie  an  early  morning  call.  I  suspect  they 
have  some  secret  or  other  on  hand,  but  I  wouldn't 
be  so  rude  as  to  ask  any  questions." 

"Curiosity,  thy  name  is  not — Violet  Sylves- 
ter," quoted  Mac,  sarcastically. 

"And  Louise,"  Violet  went  on,  as  though  she 
had  not  been  interrupted,  "had  to  be  invited  be- 


108  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

cause  Mac  was.  Else  she  would  not  have  been 
able  to  eat  any  breakfast." 

"Miss  Lucinda  appears  to  have  thriven  well 
during  the  months  of  Mac's  absence  at  college," 
remarked  Keith,  after  a  grave  and  critical  sur- 
vey of  Louise's  glowing  face. 

"And  now  that  we  air  understand  so  clearly 
why  we  are  all  here,  suppose  you  give  us  some 
of  the  berries  that  Hilda  and  I  gathered  before 
you  were  up,"  suggested  Mac,  in  the  midst  of 
opening  an  egg  for  his  little  helpmeet. 

"Xot  before  I  was  up,  MacDonald,  but  be- 
fore I  was  down.  Xo,  not  that  either,  for  you 
had  just  started  for  the  garden  when  I  came  out. 
Aren't  these  the  finest  berries  you  ever  saw, 
Keith  ?"  she  asked,  handing  him  a  dish  full  of 
them. 

"It  would  be  hard  to  find  finer  ones  surely," 
Keith  conceded.  "They  remind  me  of  those  we 
had  at  Sylvester  Hall,  Violet." 

"So  they  do.  Mrs.  Barbara,  good  soul,  al- 
ways took  such  pride  in  her  berries.  By  the 
way,  Mac,  do  you  remember  my  promise  to  take 
you  back  there  when  I  come  into  my  inheri- 
tance ?  You  know  this  naughty  cousin  of  mine 
cheated  us  out  of  our  visit  to  London.  Let  me 
see,  I  was  nineteen  in  June;  two  years  more 
will  make  me  of  age." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  109 

"But  T  thought  girls  were  of  age  at  eighteen-. 
Aren't  they,  Mr.  Keith  ?"  inquired  Louise. 

"In  some  places.  Violet's  father,  however, 
stipulated  in  his  will  that  she  should  not  come 
into  possession  of  the  property  until  she  should 
be  twenty-one." 

"And  so  you  see,  Mac,  two  years  from  now 
we  shall  very  likely  be  eating  raspberries  of 
Mrs.  Barbara's  picking.  For  I  mean  to  take  my 
entire  family  home  for  one  summer  at  least, 
and  show  them  how  hospitable  an  English  girl 
can  be.  But  you  and  I  are  to  have  one  whole 
beautiful  week  exploring  London,  with  Cousin 
Keith  as  chaperone.  And  we'll  get  our  revenge 
on  him  for  his  hard-heartedness  to  us  four  years 
ago,  won't  we  ?" 

"You  are  not  very  much  alarmed  at  the  pros- 
pect, are  you,  Mr.  Keith  ?"  Mac  asked,  smiling. 

"I  don't  see  why  it  is,"  declared  Violet,  not 
giving  him  a  chance  to  answer  the  question, 
"that  no  one  thinks  I  can  be  severe." 

A  general  shout  of  laughter  rang  out  at  this. 

"Severe !"  repeated  Mac,  passing  his  dish  for 
another  helping  of  berries.  "Violet,  dear,  when 
did  you  see  thorns  growing  on  a  violet  stalk? 
You  couldn't  be  anything  but  gentle  and  sweet 
if  you  tried  ever  so  hard.  So  don't  waste  your 
energy  in  trying." 


11.0  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"If  you  only  knew,  my  dear  sir,  what  is  hang- 
ing over  your  poor  head,  you  might  think  dif- 
ferently," was  her  quick  response. 

"That  reminds  me  of  the  forfeits  we  used  to 
play  when  we  were  youngsters.  'Heavy,  heavy 
hangs  over  your  head,'  or  something  of  the  sort, 
wasn't  it,  Louise?" 

"Yes,  but  don'^  mind  Violet's  nonsense,"  said 
Louise,  uneasy  at  what  might  come  next.  "This 
is  spiced  currant  day,  is  it  not,  Violet  ?" 

"To  be  sure.  And  we'll  have  a  bee — a  cur- 
rant bee.  We'll  have  bowls,  and  aprons,  and  sit 
out  on  the  west  porch  in  the  shade,  and  stem 
currants,  and  have  a  beautiful  time." 

This  pleasant  program  was  very  soon  in  pro- 
gress, except  that  Violet  and  Miss  Janet  were 
not  among  the  stemmers.  The  latter,  in  the  seat 
of  honor  in  a  specially  cool  honeysuckle-vined 
corner,  was  given  the  double  duty  of  "being  ad- 
viser-in-chief  and  looking  as  sweet  as  a  rose,"  as 
Violet's  order  was.  That  busy  young  woman, 
with  the  sleeves  of  her  blue  cambric  frock  rolled 
high  on  her  fair  round  arms,  and  a  huge  white 
apron  tied  about  her  waist,  was  the  presiding 
genius  in  the  large  cool  summer  kitchen  which 
opened  in  from  the  porch,  and  which  had  been 
given  up  to  her  service  for  the  important  occa- 
sion. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  Ill 

Wliile  the  glowing  scarlet  globes  were  being 
deftly  taken  from  their  stems  and  heaped  in 
bowls,  amid  laughter  and  merry  chatter,  she 
brought  from  box  and  chest  in  the  nearby  pantry 
the  various  sorts  of  "sugar  and  spice  and  all 
things  nice"  that  were  soon  to  meet  in  the  big 
kettle  of  syrup  on  the  range.  These  were 
weighed  out  with  scrupulous  exactness,  and  one 
by  one  put  to  its  proper  use. 

Occasionally  she  made  a  flying  visit  to  her 
industrious  lieutenants.  On  one  of  these  oc- 
casions she  bethought  herself  of  two  others  who 
might  be  assisting. 

"Why,  we've  forgotten  Mark  and  Marcia!" 
she  exclaimed.  "That's  too  bad !  Mac,  won't 
you  go  over  and  bring  them  ?  That's  a  good 
boy!  And  tell  them  you  are  all  to  stay  to 
luncheon,  please.  Here,  I'll  untie  your  apron." 

So  Mac,  being  divested  of  his  robe  of  office, 
was  soon  scurrying  across  the  lawn  very  much 
as  the  "long-legged  Mac"  of  olden  days  had 
done. 

"I  haven't  seen  Mac  so  much  like  himself 
since  he  came  home  from  college,"  remarked 
Keith  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  hearing.  "It  does 
me  good." 

"You  don't  like  to  have  any  of  us  grow  up,  do 
you,  Mr.  Keith  ?"  asked  Louise,  with  an  arch. 


112  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

glance  in  his  direction.  "But  we  can't  seem  to 
help  it." 

"No,  I  suppose  you  cannot,"  was  Keith's 
rather  abstracted  answer.  His  thoughts  had 
ilown  hack  to  the  eager,  brown-haired  little  girl 
who  had  brought  her  father  over  from  Standish 
Hall  to  see  about  the  lessons  he  had  promised  to 
give  her.  And  this  father's  long-forgotten 
words,  "I  have  but  one  condition  to  make,  don't 
give  her  too  much  to  do,  for  I  won't  have  her 
losing  her  rosy  cheeks  and  growing  up,"  seemed 
like  a  far-off  echo  of  Louise's  remark. 

Louise,  the  girl,  had  from  the  first  been  very 
dear  to  the  young  man.  He  was  fast  finding 
out  that  Louise,  the  woman,  in  her  beautiful 
unfolding  of  rare  character  and  great  personal 
charm,  was  the  dearest  object  the  world  held  for 
him.  Scarcely  to  himself  had  he  acknowledged 
this,  sternly  he  battled  down  every  rising  im- 
pulse, for  the  face  of  the  boy  he  loved  almost  as 
well  as  he  did  Louise,  always  rose  beside  hers 
as  the  one  she  would* choose.  That  the  strong 
affection  always  existing  between  them  as  boy 
and  girl,  as  youth  and  maiden,  would  not  con- 
tinue to  develop  until  it  should  unite  their  lives 
in  the  closest  of  all  bonds  had  never  occurred  to 
him.  It  seemed  the  fitting  thing,  in  spite  of  the 
distant  kinship  relating  them. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  113 

It  was  a  subject  not  easy  for  Keith  to  con- 
sider; but,  with  characteristic  strength  and  un- 
selfishness, he  eliminated  the  personal  equation, 
so  far  as  was  possible.  It  was  largely  because 
of  his  belief  in  Louise's  attachment  to  Mac,  and 
of  his  to  her  up  to  a  very  recent  time,  that  the 
young  man's  infatuation  for  Mrs.  Vandyne 
gave  him  so  much  uneasiness.  Even  Janet,  who 
did  not  dream  of  the  true  state  of  things,  could 
not  understand  what  she  considered  Keith's 
over-anxiety.  To  her  the  children  were  yet 
children.  That  they  should  suddenly  turn  into 
lovers  and  pair  off  one  way  and  another  would 
have  appeared  an  event  of  the  far  future,  had  it 
occurred  to  her  at  all.  For  the  intercourse  be- 
tween Standish  Hall  and  Little  Acorns  was  just 
as  frank  and  affectionate  and  free  from  self- 
consciousness  as  it  had  been  for  the  last  five 
years. 

The  only  change  was  Mac's  defection  since 
his  return  from  college  a  few  weeks  before.  Mrs. 
Vandyne  had  moved  into  the  neighborhood 
during  the  spring.  They  knew  of  her  as  Howard 
St.  John's  sister  and  a  friend  of  Aunt  Kate 
Norton,  whose  children,  Alec  and  Helen  and 
Charlie,  had  always  spent  much  time  at  Stand- 
ish Hall.  Calls  were  duly  made  and  returned, 
but  no  intimacy  sprang  up.  Soon  after  Mac 
8 


11-i  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

came  home  he  met  her  at  Howard's  home  in 
Standish,  when  she  immediately  brought  him 
to  her  side  and  had  kept  him  there  a  good  part 
of  the  time  ever  since. 

Keith  was  roused  from  his  reverie  by  feeling 
a  soft  hand  on  his  own.  Violet  was  holding  his 
fingers  fast. 

"Please  to  wake  up,  you  careless  man.  Don't 
you  know  you've  been  putting  currants  in  the 
stem  bowl  this  ever  so  long  ?  I've  been  watching 
you  and  hoping  you'd  come  back  from  wherever 
you've  been,  because  I  didn't  like  to  hurt  your 
feelings  by  speaking  out  before  everybody.  But 
I  can't,  I  really  can't  have  my  spiced  currants 
spoiled  even  by  you,  my  dearest  of  cousins. 
Why,  girls,  only  see  Cousin  Keith  blush !  Oh ! 
oh !  oh !  He  never  did  that  before." 

Her  merry  tirade,  rattled  off  in  a  way  she 
sometimes  had,  did  not  attract  any  especial  at- 
tention until  she  spoke  the  word  "blush."  Then 
every  eye  was  fixed  on  Keith  in  astonishment, 
for  it  was  true.  A  quick,  deep  flush  had  crim- 
soned his  cheeks  and  forehead,  and  for  a  second 
he  looked  the  picture  of  embarrassment.  But 
before  the  general  laughter  had  died  away  he 
was  himself  again. 

Glancing  up,  he  happened  to  spy  Dr.  Strong 
walking  along  the  gravel  path,  and  immediately 
hallooed  to  him. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  115 

"You're  wanted  up  here,  Doctor,  badly 
needed,  indeed,  to  assist  a  helpless  fellow- 
creat —  '  Keith  began,  but  Violet,  stepping  to 
meet  the  doctor,  interrupted  him. 

"I'll  have  to  shake  hands  with  you  for  us  all, 
Doctor.  JSTot  one — oh !  yes,  Auntie  Jean  is 
one — has  hands  fit  to  touch.  They're  all  help- 
ing stem  my  currants.  And  you'd  like  to  help 
too,  wouldn't  you  ?  Mark  and  Marcia  have  just 
begun,  but  the  rest  must  be  tired.  Keith,  you 
can  be  excused  now,  and  come  into  the  kitchen 
to  help  me.  I'll  give  the  doctor  an  apron,  and 
he  can  take  your  place." 

During  all  this  cool  appropriation  of  him  Dr. 
Strong  stood  viewing  the  pretty  group  and  the 
heaping  dishes  of  beautiful  fruit,  but  his  gaze 
began  and  ended  with  Violet. 

"'Oh !  if  I  might  be  allowed  to  choose,  let  me 
be  the  one  to  assist  you.  I  assure  you  my  big 
fingers  could  do  nothing  with  those  tiny  things," 
he  begged,  spreading  out  his  hands  and  glanc- 
ing ruefully  at  the  currants. 

"And  are  you  sure  you  can  do  things  in  a 
kitchen  ?  You  are  rather  big,  I  believe." 

She  looked  up  and  down  the  stalwart  figure 
with  approving  eyes. 

"Well,  I'll  try  you,"  was  the  verdict,  gravely 
given.  "The  first  thing  is  your  apron." 


116  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

While  she  disappeared  to  get  it  he  moved 
across  beside  Janet. 

"I  have  your  permission  for  this  domestic 
service,  Miss  Janet  ?"  he  inquired,  half  in  jest, 
half  in  earnest. 

"Most  heartily.  We  are  all  of  us  under  Vio- 
let's rule  to-day.  Even  I  don't  dare  stir  from 
this  chair  until  my  lady  nods." 

"I  see,"  he  replied,  with  a  gravity  equal  to 
her  own.  "Well,  Miss  Violet,  I'll  be  your  will- 
ing slave  for" — consulting  his  watch — "for  ex- 
actly forty  minutes.  So  make  the  most  of  your 
time,  young  lady." 

"You  shall  see  that  I  do.  O  Jeanie !  just  look 
at  this  apron  band  !  It  won't  begin  to  go  around 
such  a  giant.  I'll  have  to  get  one  with  strings. 
Come  into  the  kitchen,  Doctor.  I'm  afraid  the 
syrup  will  burn.  Doesn't  it  begin  to  smell 
good  ?" 

A  delicious  odor  had  been  stealing  abroad 
from  the  big  shining  kettle  for  some  minutes. 
Xo\v  the  glistening  contents  of  the  bowls  were 
slipped  into  the  bubbling  syrup,  which  was  soon 
taken  out  to  be  poured  into  the  waiting  rows  of 
glass  jars. 

With  a  charming  little  frown  of  anxiety 
wrinkling  her  forehead,  giving  now  a  word  of 
direction,  now  a  smile  of  approval  to  her  deft 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  117 

helper,  Violet  went  about  the  pretty  work,  and 
never  a  thought  entered  her  mind  of  the  delight 
it  was  to  him  to  be  near  her  and  to  watch  her 
graceful  movements,  her  skilful  manipulations 
in  her  womanly  occupation. 

"Do  you  suppose  your  grandmother's  cur- 
rants looked  any  prettier  than  mine  ?"  she  in- 
quired, as  jar  after  jar  of  the  carefully  sealed 
confection  was  set  on  a  wide  shelf  to  cool. 

"I  don't  see  how  that  could  have  been  pos- 
sible,'' he  replied,  struggling  with  a  refractory 
cover.  He  would  have  liked  to  add,  "And  I 
know  my  grandmother  never  looked  half  as 
sweet  as  you  do  this  very  minute." 

But  the  good  doctor  had  not  entirely  lost  his 
head,  although  his  forty  minutes  had  long  since 
grown  to  an  hour  or  more.  He  contented  him- 
self with  simply  drinking  in,  gratefully,  all  the 
good  the  gods  were  providing,  with  no  thought 
of  the  future. 

"Can't  I  come  in,  Violet?"  Mac  asked 
through  the  window.  "It  isn't  fair  to  let  the 
doctor  carry  off  all  the  honors." 

"Yes,  do,  please.  I've  been  feeling  conscience 
smitten  about  the  doctor  ever  since  I  heard  the 
clock  strike  eleven, .  but  he's  such  a  splendid 
worker  I  could  not  bear  to  tell  him  it  was  time 
for  him  to  go.  And  now  that  you  have  stayed 


118  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

so  long,  Doctor,  won't  you  stay  a  little  longer 
and  have  luncheon  with  us  ?  Ellen  is  to  have  it 
ready  exactly  at  noon." 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Miss  Violet.  If 
you'll  excuse  me,  I'll  slip  around  home  and  give 
Dell  a  surprise  party  before  I  go  up  the  moun- 
tain. I've  nothing  urgent  on  hand  to-day,  but 
did  not  expect  to  be  back  for  dinner  with  her. 
So  it  will  be  unexpected  pleasure  for  both  of  us." 

"We  can't  insist  on  anything  which  will  de- 
prive Miss  Berdel  of  a  pleasure,"  said  Violet, 
"but  we'd  love  to  have  you  with  us.  I  don't 
know  how  I  can  ever  thank  you  for  your  share 
in  my  first  work  of  this  sort,  I'm  going  to  bring 
you  and  dear  Miss  Berdel  and  Mrs.  Bolton  each 
a  jar.  Yours  as  a  partial  reward  for  good  con- 
duct," she  went  on  roguishly,  "Mrs.  Bolton's  for 
giving  us  the  recipe,  and  Miss  Berdel's  just  be- 
cause she  is  a  darling,  and  I  love  her." 

"I've  known  other  people  to  do  things  for  the 
same  reason,"  slipped  out  almost  before  he  knew 
it.  "Good-bye,  Miss  Violet,  with  congratula- 
tions on  your  success!" 

"Our  success,  Doctor.  Don't  be  too  modest," 
laughed  Violet.  "Good-bye!" 

She  turned  away  to  the  steaming  kettle,  and 
he  made  his  adieux  to  the  merry  group  outside 
who  had  long  ago  finished  their  part  of  the 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  119 

labors  and  were  idling  away  the  time  until 
luncheon  should  be  served. 

There  was  not  much  more  to  be  done.  Mac 
helped  fasten  the  remaining  jars.  As  he  did  so 
he  pondered  the  doctor's  last  remark,  wonder- 
ing just  what  he  meant,  for  Mac  had  been  quick 
to  detect  the  ring  of  sincerity  in  the  lightly- 
spoken  words,  and  to  see  their  application  to 
Violet,  as  she  had  not.  For  the  first  time  it 
flashed  upon  MacDonald's  consciousness  that 
men  outside  her  own  family  might  see  and  love 
the  sweetness  of  the  English  violet  which  he  had 
somehow,  unconsciously,  appropriated  to  him- 
self ever  since  the  first  moment  of  their  meet- 
ing that  summer  day  at  Sylvester  Hall.  He 
could  see  now,  as  plainly  as  then,  the  slender, 
black-robed  figure,  standing  in  the  midst  of 
roses  tumbling  from  lap  and  hand,  the  soft 
golden  hair  wind-tossed  about  the  lovely  face, 
the  shy,  wistful  appeal  of  the  big  blue  eyes  look- 
ing up  at  the  unknown  cousin  come  from  Amer- 
ica to  be  her  guardian,  and,  flashing  a  bright 
glance  of  welcome  at  the  tall  lad  who  lingered 
behind,  regarding  her  as  the  most  beautiful  vis- 
ion of  his  life. 

Mac  had  given  small  heed  to  Violet  of  late — 
all  his  thoughts  had  been  occupied  with  a  far  dif- 
ferent type  of  woman,  a  type  which  still  held 


120  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

him  enthralled;  and  yet — oh!  marvelous  com- 
plexity of  the  human  heart — he  felt  a  good 
sharp  tug  somewhere  within  his  breast  as  he 
thought  of  Dr.  Strong's  inadvertent  words  in 
connection  with  Violet. 

"How  dare  he  think  her  a  darling  and  do 
things  for  her  because  he  loves  her  ?"  he  ques- 
tioned, angrily.  "Why,  he's  old  enough  to  be 
her  father,  and  my  father  and  Mr.  Keith's 
father,  for  all  I  know.  The  old  idiot !" 

His  wrath  waxed  hotter  and  hotter,  and  finally 
exploded,  when  the  last  jar  was  set  away. 

"Violet,  come  over  into  the  library  a  minute. 
I've  something  to  say  to  you." 

She  turned  swiftly  about  at  this  imperious 
summons,  so  unlike  Mac,  so  different  from  his 
gay  banter  of  the  whole  morning. 

"Why  can't  you  tell  me  here  ?"  she  asked, 
coolly,  not  at  all  relishing  his  lordliness. 

"Because  it  is  a  private  matter,  and  a  very 
important  one.  Come !" 

Another  keen  survey  of  his  unsmiling  face 
aroused  both  her  apprehension  and  her  curios- 
ity. What  could  possibly  be  the  matter  ?  She 
recalled  at  that  instant  Miss  Janet's  injunction 
that  they  must  all  be  very  gentle  with  him. 

"Maybe  he's  going  to  unburden  himself  on 
the  subject  of  Mrs.  Vandyne,"  she  thought. 
"And  there'll  be  my  chance." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  121 

"Yes,  Mac,  I'll  come  just  as  soon  as  I  wash 
my  hands  and  call  Jane  to  attend  to  all  these 
things." 

They  crossed  the  short  hall  leading  from  the 
kitchen  and  then  walked  the  length  of  a  longer 
one  in  silence.  As  they  entered  the  library 
he  carefully  closed  the  door  behind  them,  and 
then  began  at  once,  while  Violet  was  still  stand- 
ing. 

"Violet,  I  think  yon  do  very  wrong  to  en- 
courage the  attentions  of  Dr.  Strong  as  you  do. 
I  want  it  stopped  at  once!" 

He  was  quite  red  in  the  face,  and  tugged 
savagely  at  his  thick  brown  mustache. 

If  a  dynamite  bomb  had  burst  under  Violet's 
feet,  she  could  not  have  been  more  amazed.  For 
a  second  she  was  actually  stunned,  and  could 
only  gaze,  open-eyed  and  open-mouthed,  at  the 
young  man  glowering  down  upon  her.  Then, 
with  the  instinctive  pride  of  her  race,  she  drew 
her  slight  figure  to  its  fullest  height  and  had 
herself  well  in  hand.  The  first  moment  of  in- 
dignant astonishment,  of  swift  resentment  at 
the  absurdity  of  his  charge,  gave  way  to  a  keen 
sense  of  the  comicality,  of  the  sudden  turning 
of  the  tables  upon  her.  Instead  of  the  lecture 
she,  in  her  righteous  anger,  was  to  give,  eliciting 
an  humble  confession  from  the  penitent  culprit, 


122  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

here  was  the  offender  bringing  her  in  most  high 
and  mighty  fashion  to  the  bar  of  justice ! 

A  moment  more  of  silence  and  then  a  merry, 
musical  laugh  rang  out  on  the  air,  her  only  an- 
swer to  him. 

He  frowned,  impatient  and  annoyed. 

"It  is  no  laughing  matter,  Violet,"  he  began, 
fiercely.  "You  must  listen  to  me  with  serious 
attention." 

She  made  a  pretty  little  grimace. 

"Must?"  she  repeated,  saucily.  "Why 
must  ?" 

"Why — because — because,"  he  began,  quite 
disconcerted  by  this  extremely  sensible  question. 

She  was  quick  to  take  advantage  of  his  hesi- 
tation. 

"  'Because'  is  a  woman's  reason,  Mac.  Until 
you  can  give  me  one  of  your  own,  I'll  ask  you 
to  excuse  me." 

Again  she  laughed,  her  eyes  brimful  of  fun. 
Making  a  deep  curtesy,  with  her  skirts  daintily 
held  out  in  her  finger-tips,  saucy,  tantalizing, 
charming,  she  left  him  to  his  own  interesting 
reflections. 


CHAPTEK  IX. 
A  QUIET  HOUK. 

"TRIOLET'S    heightened    color    and    Mac's 

V  nervousness  were  noticed  at  the  luncheon 
table,  but  no  comments  were  made.  Gradually 
he  regained  his  composure  and  became  the  life 
of  the  little  company. 

"It  is  high  time,"  he  had  sagely  concluded, 
"to  let  Violet  see  that  she  cannot  wind  me 
around  her  little  finger.  I'm  no  longer  a  boy 
to  be  trifled  with  by  a  girl  of  her  age." 

Just  as  they  were  about  rising  from  the  table 
Ellen  brought  a  note  to  him.  As  he  opened  it, 
with  a  hasty  word  of  apology,  Louise  spied 
Mrs.  Vandyne's  monogram  on  the  envelope. 

"Oh  !  dear,"  she  sighed,  "I  do  wish  she  would 
let  him  alone  one.  day.  It  has  been  so  lovely  for 
us  to  have  him  again." 

Meanwhile  Mac  was  reading  : 


"DEAR 

"Before  me  on  my  desk  lies  the  all-important 
permit  from  your  lordly  Mr.  Stockton,  allow- 
ing Mr.  Fred  S.  Hermann,  Miss  Clara  St.  John, 


124  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Mrs.  Lucille  Vandyne  and  Mr.  MacDonald 
Caldwell  to  enter  the  charmed  precincts  of  Am- 
monet  Mountain  and  ride  about  at  will.  So 
our  muscular  friend,  Andrew,  will  find  his  occu- 
pation gone. 

"We  are  to  start  to-morrow  morning  at  ten 
o'clock,  but  if  you'd  like  to,  come  an  hour  earlier 
and  tickle  your  palate  with  some  of  Marie's  de- 
licious muffins.    There'll  be  a  plate  for  you. 
"Ever  devotedly, 

"LUCILLE  VANDYNE. 
"Wednesday,  July  twenty-seventh." 

"You're  not  going  away,  are  you,  Mac?" 
Louise  could  not  help  asking,  as  he  replaced  the 
note  in  its  envelope  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"'No,  dear,"  he  replied,  "this  is  an  invitation 
for  breakfast  and  a  ride  through  the  Quarry  to- 
morrow morning  with  Mrs.  Vandyne." 

He  was  in  high  spirits,  and  quite  willing  to 
let  Violet  see  that  he  was  appreciated  by  a 
woman  vastly  her  superior  in  every  way. 

"To  breakfast !"  exclaimed  Marcia,  while 
Keith  added,  more  slowly, 

"If  I  were  you,  Mac,  I  wouldn't  take  any 
ladies  up  there.  It  is  never  easy  to  tell  what 
may  be  going  on." 

"She  is  going  to  take  me,"  said  Mac,  smiling 
slightly  at  bis  remembrance  of  their  attempted 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  125 

visit.  "And  she  has  a  permit  from  Mr.  Stock- 
ton obtained  by  Fred  Hermann.  They  will  see 
to  it  that  nothing  dangerous  is  going  on." 

"Then  it  is  Hermann's  party,  is  it  ?"  inquired 
Keith. 

"I  suppose  so — but  Mrs.  Vandyne  invited 
me.  I  say,  Louise,  this  looks  like  old  times 
somehow,  doesn't  it  ?  All  this  crowd  over  here. 
If  only  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Helen  and  Charles 
the  Fat  would  show  up,  it  would  be  complete. 
Suppose  we  go  out  on  the  river !  The  air  is  de- 
licious to-day  for  rowing.  I  haven't  handled  an 
oar  this  age.  How  is  it,  Mr.  Keith,  with  you  ?'' 

"I'm  at  your  service,  Mac,  with  pleasure." 

Very  soon  they  were  all  strolling  along  the 
familiar  pathway.  Mac  walked  beside  Louise, 
pointedly  avoiding  Violet,  They  were  some 
distance  in  advance  of  the  others. 

"Louise,"  he  asked,  presently,  "why  are  you 
and  Mr.  Keith  so  down  on  Mrs.  Vandyne  ?  And 
why  don't  Marcia  and  Auntie  Jean  call  on  her 
any  more?" 

Louise  felt,  her  heart  leap  to  her  throat  at  this 
direct  question.  How  to  answer  it  truthfully 
without  offending  her  companion  she  could  not 
tell,  but  with  characteristic  frankness  she  spoke 
her  mind,  after  one  swift  little  petition  upward 
for  guidance. 


126  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"I  think  it  is  because  we  do  not  consider  her 
a  desirable  acquaintance." 

"But  why  not  ?  At  first  you  were  all  friendly 
enough." 

"Yes,  for  we  knew  she  was  a  friend  of  Aunt 
Kate,  and  we  saw  nothing  out  of  the  way  with 
her.  But  when  she  had  the  Hermanns  and  all 
their  crowd  at  her  house  so  much,  and  did  not 
keep  the  Sabbath,  and — and — O  Mac  !  when 
she  began  to  keep  you  away  from  the  chapel  and 
make  you  so  unlike  yourself,  how  could  we  want 
to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  her  ?" 

Mac  smiled  in  an  indulgent  way. 

"Are  you  such  a  little  goose,  Louise,  as  to 
suppose  a  man  can  always  think  and  act  as  he 
did  when  he  was  a  boy  ?" 

"No,"  answered  Louise,  with  unexpected 
spirit,  "I  think  a  man  ought  to  act  with  a  great 
deal  more  strength  and  wisdom  than  he  did 
when  he  was  a  boy,  and  not  to  retrograde." 

"How  have  I  retrograded  ?"  he  asked,  flush- 
ing a  little.  Then,  quite  seriously,  "I've  known 
for  a  good  while,  Louise,  that  you  and  Mr. 
Keith  have  been  thinking  all  sorts  of  things 
about  me.  It  is  not  very  pleasant,  I  assure  you, 
to  be  watched  all  the  time.  And  I've  concluded 
to  have  it  plainly  out  with  you.  We  have  al- 
ways been  good  friends  until  now,  but — " 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  127 

He  was  interrupted  by  something  which 
sounded  suspiciously  like  a  sob.  He  gave  a 
quick  glance  downward. 

"Now,  don't  go  to  feeling  bad,  Louise,"  he 
went  on,  more  gently,  "and  making  me  feel  like 
a  brute.  I  don't  wish  to  hurt  your  feelings,  but 
I  do  want  to  know  just  what  it  is  that's  the  mat- 
ter." 

"I'm  willing  to  tell  you  so  far  as  I'm  con- 
cerned," she  said  at  once,  "but  is  this  a  good 
time!" 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  hadn't  an  idea 
of  opening  up  this  subject  when  we  started  out, 
but  now  that  we  have  done  so,  we'd  better  keep 
on.  We'll  take  the  little  boat  and  go  off  alone 
before  the  others  get  here." 

They  were  but  a  short  time  in  pushing  off; 
sor  when  Keith  came  in  view  of  the  river,  their 
small  craft  was  already  well  down  the  quiet 
stream. 

"They're  not  selfish  or  anything,  are  they?" 
commented  Mark,  "taking  the  best  boat  and 
skipping  off  like  two  lovers." 

"Now  begin,"  Mac  was  saying  at  that  mo- 
ment. 

"Well,  Mac,  in  the  first  place,  I  think  you  are 
quite  mistaken  in  saying  that  Mr.  Keith  and  I 
watch  you.  We  can't  help  seeing  that  you  are 


128  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

not  at  chapel,  either  at  the  Sunday-school  or 
services,  except  once  in  a  great  while.  We  meet 
you  walking  and  riding  with  Mrs.  Vandyne, 
but  we  don't  watch  you  or  spy  on  you,  Mac,  if 
that  is  what  you  mean.  Why,  we  would  bo 
above  that,  dearly  as  we  love  you  and  as  much  as 
we  wish  you  would  be  your  own  self  again.  I 
believe  you  don't  realize  how  different  you  are." 

Louise's  sweet  face  was  never  more  attrac- 
tive than  now  in  its  earnestness. 

"There's  one  thing  sure,  Louise,  no  one  else 
in  the  world  could  talk  to  me  in  this  way,  not 
even  Auntie  Jean.  I  wouldn't  stand  it.  But 
you  always  were  my  dear  little  mentor  and  com- 
forter. I  don't  mind  confessing  to  you  that 
sometimes  I  do  feel  a  bit  conscience  smitten ;  I 
suppose  because  I'd  gotten  so  in  the  habit  jf 
helping  Mr.  Keith  in  all  his  work  up  the  moun- 
tain. But,  you  see,  a  man  when  he  goes  out  into 
the  world  can't  be  a  milksop.  To  refuse  a  cigar 
or  an  innocent  game  of  cards  looks  so  countrified 
and  churlish.  It  seems  as  though  you  were  re- 
proving people  older  and  more  experienced  than 
yourself." 

"But  if  they  are  not  doing  right,  Mac,  why 
shouldn't  they  be  reproved  ?" 

"Exactly.  But  what  is  there  wrong  in  smok- 
ing a  good  cigar  or  playing  a  game  of  euchre  or 
whist  ?" 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  129 

"I  think  there  is  everything  wrong  in  them 
if  they  make  you  put  Christ  and  his  work 
second." 

Mac  gave  close  attention  to  his  oars  for  sev- 
eral minutes. 

"You  certainly  do  strike  a  nail  squarely  on 
the  head,  Louise,"  he  said  at  length,  with  an 
uneasy  laugh. 

"You  used  to  think  just  as  I  do  about  these 
things,  Mac.  Oh !  what  has  changed  you  so ! 
Are  you  really  happier  now?" 

"There's  no  use  trying  to  make  you  under- 
stand about  it,  Louise.  You  see,  you  and  Auntie 
Jean  and  Violet  are  so  different.  You  think 
your  way  is  right.  Other  people  have  been 
brought  up  to  think  their  way  is  right,  Now, 
why  shouldn't  they  have  a  chance  as  well  as 
you  ?» 

"But,  you  know,  Mac,  there  is  a  standard  of 
right  and  wrong  higher  than  individual  opin- 
ion." 

"I  suppose  you' mean  the  Golden  Rule  and 
all  that.  I  admit  they  are  good  for  some  people 
who  can't  or  won't,  or,  anyhow,  don't  think  for 
themselves.  But  why  did  the  Creator  give  us 
our  reason  and  mental  faculties  if  he  didn't 
mean  that  we  should  use  them  ?" 

"'Oh!  I  think  he  did  intend  that  we  should 
9 


130  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

use  them,  Mac/'  replied  Louise,  speaking  very 
earnestly ;  "and  if  we  had  no  sin  in  our  hearts, 
very  likely  we  could  judge  correctly  always. 
But,  you  see,  after  sin  came  in  he  gave  us  the 
Bible  to  counteract  that  and  to  strengthen  our 
judgments,  so  we  could  always  tell  what  is  right 
to  do  and  what  is  wrong." 

Mac  regarded  her  closely. 

"And  can  you  always  tell,  Louise,  just  what 
is  right  to  do  ?" 

"Do  you  remember  the  day  the  chapel  was 
dedicated,  Mac,  and  the  words  that  Mr.  Keith 
suggested  we  should  use  as  our  watch-words  ?"- 
Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy 
mind,  and  with  all  thy  strength,'  and  'Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.'  Do  you 
think  we  can  go  very  far  wrong  if  we  live  by 
these?" 

"No,  I  dare  say  not.  But  you  fail  still  to 
convince  me  how  I  am  doing  wrong  in  my  ac- 
quaintance with  Mrs.  Vandyne.  If  you  would 
lay  aside  your  prejudice,  Louise,  I  am  sure  you 
would  have  to  acknowledge  her  a  charming,  cul- 
tivated woman,  always  ready  to  do  one  a  kind- 
ness, and  that  you,  too,  would  be  fond  of  her." 

Louise  shook  her  head. 

"I  am  not  prejudiced,  Mac.  If  she  were  only 
a  Christian,  I  could  overlook  a  great  many  un- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  131 

congenial  things.  But  that  is  something  lack- 
ing which  nothing  else  can  make  up  for.  You 
know  the  Bible  says,  'Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked 
together/  and  I  always  think  that  means  in 
friendship  as  well  as  in  marriage.  To  be  real 
true  friends  people  must  be  one  in  their  sym- 
pathies and  their  aims ;  and  if  she  really  is  the 
lovely  character  that  you — as  a  Christian — be- 
lieve her  to  be,  then  she  should  be  helping  you 
in  your  Christian  life.  Is  she  doing  this  ?" 

Again  Mac  looked  across  at  her,  this  time  with 
some  surprise  in  his  survey.  He  had  seen  very 
little  of  Louise  since  his  return  from  college  in 
June.  It  struck  him  that  she  had  changed 
more  than  he  knew  of  since  the  last  vacation. 
In  reply  to  her  searching  question,  memory 
brought  vividly  before  him  a  picture  of  the  last 
Sabbath  morning.  He  remembered  that  while 
he  lay  swinging  in  a  hammock  on  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne's  shady  porch,  reading  a  French  novel 
aloud  to  her,  they  had  heard  the  chapel  bell 
ring,  and  she  had  made  some  laughing  remark 
about  his  being  free  from  bondage.  That  was 
the  way  she  helped  him  in  his  Christian  life. 
Conscience,  outraged  so  often  of  late  that  it  had 
become  seared,  leaped  up  and  impelled  him  to 
acknowledgment. 

"No,  Louise,  she  does  not.  She  does  not  even 
respect  the  Sabbath  as  we  do." 


132  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Then  why,  O  Mac!  dear  Mac!  why  do  yon 
care  so  much  for  her  ?  Can't  you  see  how  she  is 
harming  you  ?  Can't  you  realize  how  dread- 
fully you  will  feel  some  day  when  you  meet  our 
Master  and  tell  him  how  you  forgot  him  and  his 
work  here  ?  You  might  be  growing  so  strong 
and  helpful  and  lovely  all  these  days.  There 
is  so  much  to  do.  And  we  miss  you  so,  and 
want  you,  Mac." 

The  little  boat  shot  forward  under  his  vigor- 
ous strokes.  Louise,  frightened  lest  the  words 
she  could  not  keep  back  had  done  more  harm 
than  good,  sat  quivering  with  emotion.  Mac's 
black  brows  were  drawn  together  in  a  scowl. 
Skillfully  he  changed  their  course  and  in  silence 
rowed  back  to  the  landing.  The  others  were  not 
in  sight. 

"Tf  they  want  to  bo  alone,  we'll  let  them," 
Mark  had  said,  and  headed  the  larger  boat  up- 
stream. 

"Do  you  remember  the  night  we  boys  upset 
you,  Louise?"  Mac  said  very  gently,  speaking 
for  the  first  time,  as  he  walked  beside  her  home- 
ward. "We  were  stronger  than  you  were  then ; 
but  now  you  are  the  strong,  true  one." 

"Oh !  no,  Mac,"  she  began,  choking. 

"Yes,  you  are,  dear,"  he  interrupted,  still 
speaking  with  great  gentleness. 


CHAPTER  X. 

SOME  BITS  OF  TALK. 

AUNT  DIANA  stood  on  the  porch  at  Bird's 
Xest  the  next  forenoon,  picking  nastur- 
tium blooms.  When  she  had  filled  a  glass  bowl 
with  the  brilliant  blossoms  she  carried  them  in 
tf  Berdel. 

"Thank  YOU,  Aunt  Di;  I'll  have  them  close 
by  me  here  on  this  little  table,"  said  Berdel,  who 
was  not  to  be  off  her  couch  at  all  that  day. 

Aunt  Diana  busied  herself  about  the  room  for 
a  while  and  finally  went  out,  returning  with  a 
basket  of  peas  to  shell.  For  some  time  she 
worked  in  silence,  but  Berdel,  watching  her 
quick  motions  and  the  peculiar  compression  of 
her  lips,  know  that  she  had  something  on  her 
ri  ind. 

"Mary  Berdel,"  she  said  at  last,  "what  sort 
o'  sickness  was  it  those  folks  hed  whose  legs 
dropped  off  so's  they  lied  to  ride  round  on  the 
necks  of  other  folks  whose  arms  hed  dropped 
off?" 

"Horrors!    Aunt    Diana,"    groaned    Berdel, 


134  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"what  on  earth  are  you  talking  of  ?  There  never 
was  any  such  disease." 

Aunt  Diana  sniffed. 

"Yes,  there  was,"  she  declared,  stoutly. 
"That's  what  comes  o'  readin'  so  many  novel 
books  as  you'n  John  B.  do.  Your  mem'ry  ain't 
wuth  shucks.  Why,  you  read  me  all  I  ever 
knew  'bout  them  poor  creeturs  with  your  own 
mouth  when  you  wan't  no  more'n  ten  years  old 
out  o'  a  leetle  blue  readin'  book'n  I  recolleck 
that  I  thought  then  sech  things  wasn't  no  fit 
readin'  for  a  child  like  you  was.  'N"  you  don't 
recolleck  a  thing  about  'em  ?" 

Berdel's  mind,  freed  from  the  shock  of  Aunt 
Diana's  abrupt  dive  into  her  ghastly  subject, 
outran  her  words. 

"Oh  !  yes,  now  I  do.  They  were  lepers,  Aunt 
Diana,  way  over  on  the  other  side  of  the  world." 

"Lepers — yes — lepr'sy,  that's  it.  'N  they 
had  that  sickness  in  Bible  times  too.  I  recolleck 
about  our  Saviour's  curin'  some  on  'em." 

"Well,"  she  continued,  after  a  brief  pause, 
during  which  the  pea-pods  flew,  "Mary  Berdel, 
that  sickness  hes  broke  out  right  here  in  our 
reighborhood." 

This  brought  Berdel  bolt  upright,  big-eyed 
with  amazement.  What  could  be  the  matter 
with  Aunt  Diana  this  morning ! 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  135 

"Here!  Mary  Berdel  Strong!  you  lie  down 
agin  quicker'n  scat.  John  B.  give  you  strict 
orders  'bout  movin'  round." 

"Oh !  but,  Aunt  Di,"  gasped  Berdel,  sinking 
back  among  the  pillows. 

"Never  mind  'bout  buttin'  Aunt  Di.  You 
lie  still's  a  hull  cheese  full  o'  mice  now,  or  I'll 
go  off'n  leave  you." 

Berdel  knew,  from  long  experience,  that 
words  were  useless,  so  she  allowed  Aunt  Diana 
to  arrange  her  comfortably,  with  the  gentlest 
of  capable  hands,  and  waited,  with  what  patience 
she  was  able  to  muster,  for  the  next  chapter. 

It  was  some  time  coming,  but,  in  due  course, 
the  pea-pods  started  off  again  at  a  great  rate  of 
speed. 

"I've  noticed  simptims  o'  that  sickness  round 
here  fer  quite  a  spell  back.  It's  ketchin'  fer 
people,  but  I  hope  te  the  land  the  horses  won't 
take  it,  though  mebbe  'twould  be  a  marcy  to  the 
poor  creeters.  They'd  get  a  leetle  time  to  them- 
selves then  like  enough." 

Another  interim. 

"Ef  the  Widder  Vandyne'n  that  great  tall 
MacDonald  feller'n  a  whole  lot  more  o'  the 
strings  to  her  bow  has  got  good,  well  legs,  why 
don't  they  walk  on  'em  once  in  a  while  'stead  of 
allus  gyratin'  round  on  the  top  o'  horses'  backs  ? 


136  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

It  stands  to  reason,  to  my  mind,  that  ef  people's 
got  legs  they  c'n  use,  they'll  use  'em,  'n  I  don't 
know  o'  any  sickness  that  eats  up  the  hull  fabric 
of  a  person's  legs  'cept  that  lepr'sy,  d'  you,  Mary 
Berdel?" 

But  Mary  Berdel  was  beyond   answering. 
She  lay  shaking  with  laughter. 

Aunt  Diana  looked  at  her  over  the  top  of  her 
big  round  spectacles. 

"So  that  seems  funny  to  you,  does  it?"  she 
remarked,  a  grim  little  smile  curving  her  thin 
lips  at  sight  of  Berdel's  merriment.  "Wall,  it 
don't  to  me.  I  think  there'll  be  a  judgment  o' 
God  on  'em,  every  one  on  'em,  fer  neglectin'  the 
members  he's  given  'em.  I  just  see  a  hull  passel 
on  'em  a  scallootiii'  by  like  mad — jes'  as  I  see 
'em  almost  every  day.  Ef  they  ain't  got  the 
lepr'sy  now,  they'll  have  it,  jes'  like  those  fish 
I  heerd  John  B.  readin'  about  last  winter  that 
live  in  the  rivers,  in  some  cave  or  other,  'n  thet 
by  'n  by  didn't  hev  no  eyes  made  in  'em  because 
they  didn't  need  no  eyes  in  that  place  o'  Gyp- 
shum  darkness." 

"But,  Aunt  Di,"  remonstrated  Berdel,  when 
she  could  speak,  "Violet  and  Louise  and  Mr. 
Keith  all  ride  horse-back;  and  you  surely  don't 
think—" 

,  Mary  Berdel,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Bol- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  137 

ton,  "you  know  well  enough  that  'cause  one 
man's  a  idjot  it  don't  foller  that  all  his  neign- 
bors  hain't  got  good  sense.  The  folks  that  lives 
off  south  o'  us  is  no  more  like  those  that  lives  to 
the  north  than  butter  is  like  the  meet  in' -house, 
exceptin'  o'  thet  great  tall  geezicks  of  a  Mac, 
as  you  call  him.  His  brains  is  all  run  down  into 
his  socks  since  the  Widder  Vandyne  began 
crookin'  her  leetle  finger  at  him.  I  reckon  she 
ain't  a-gointer  keep  on  crookin'  it  forever, 
though,  'n  then  mebbe  he'll  think  it'll  rest  him 
to  staii'  on  his  head  awhile  'n  give  'em  a  chance 
to  run  back.  He's  got  enough  of  'em,  'n  it's  a 
pity  he  ever  got  kitched  on  to  her  line." 

While  all  these  remarks  were  being  made 
Mrs.  Vandyne  and  her  party  galloped  gaily  up 
the  pleasant  mountain  road.  Lucille  was  in  a 
brilliant  mood.  Several  things  had  conspired 
toward  this  end.  First  and  foremost,  she  was 
this  time  to  carry  out  her  ardent  wish  to  visit 
the  Quarry.  Safely  tucked  in  the  pocket  of  her 
habit,  a  most  stylish  and  becoming  costume 
showing  her  slight  and  extremely  graceful  figure 
to  the  best  advantage,  was  the  coveted  card  of 
admission,  which  she  had  begged  Cousin  Fred 
to  hand  over  to  her.  She  wished  to  present  it 
herself  to  the  obdurate  Andy. 

AnotheV  cause  for  her  radiant  satisfaction 


138  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

was  a  bit  of  news  confided  to  her  by  Mr.  Her- 
mann that  morning,  namely;  that  he  had  just 
made  arrangements  for  the  purchase  of  enough 
stock  in  the  Sylvester  Quarry  Company  to  pre- 
vent the  "Temperance  Cranks"  from  controlling 
matters. 

And  last,  but  most  of  all,  she  was  jubilant 
over  the  opportunity  about  to  be  hers,  of  riding 
through  the  quarry  when  the  work  was  in  full 
progress  with  Mac  as  her  escort.  She  had  had  a 
private  understanding  with  Cousin  Fred  that 
he  was  to  devote  himself  exclusively  to  pretty 
Miss  St.  John,  leaving  her  to  Mac.  She  knew 
well  enough  that  every  man  and  woman  in  the 
Quarry  village  understood  the  whole  matter  of 
the  proposed  new  store,  and  that  the  sight  of 
MacDonald  Caldwell,  openly  escorting  her 
party,  would  be  worth  hundreds  of  dollars  to  her 
side  of  the  question. 

Mac  had  never  found  her  more  gracious,  more 
fascinating,  more  openly  desirous  of  pleasing 
him  than  on  this  ride.  All  his  soreness  of  the 
day  before,  his  quick-born  jealously  of  Dr. 
Strong,  his  brief  interview  with  Violet  which 
left  him  so  mortifyingly  worsted,  his  impulsive, 
already  half  repented  of,  confidences  to  Louise, 
were  blotted  out  by  the  delightfully  soothing , 
and  flattering  camaraderie  of  the  beautiful 
woman  beside  him. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  139 

The  first  shadow  fell  over  the  brightness  of 
her  day  when  they  arrived  at  the  upper  entrance 
to  which  she  had  gone  for  the  sake  of  meeting 
Andy.  He  was  not  there.  In  his  place  stood  a 
burly  son  of  Erin,  who  received  her  card  and 
bade  her  pass  on  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  fash- 
ion. 

Could  Lucille,  bitterly  disappointed  at  the 
loss  of  this  petty  victory,  have  known  that  Andy, 
seated  on  a  big  boulder  beside  Mr.  Keith,  not 
ten  feet  above  her,  was  watching  the  whole  pro- 
cedure, she  would  have  felt  still  less  amiable. 

It  happened  to  be  an  "off  morning"  with 
Andy,  during  which  he  was  keeping  a  sort  of 
watch  over  the  new  man  put  in  his  place,  sit- 
ting within  hail  in  case  there  was  need  of  his 
advice,  but  out  of  sight  of  any  incomer  not 
familiar  with  the  lay  of  the  rocks  at  that  par- 
ticular point. 

"Master  Keith,"  asked  Andy,  when  they  had 
watched  the  equestrians  out  of  sight  in  silence, 
"do  you  think  th'  serpent  i'  th'  garden  o'  Eden 
had  a  mate  ?" 

"Why,  I  never  thought  anything  about  that, 
Andy,  responded  Keith,  surprised  at  the  odd 
question.  "Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"I  tho't  I'd  lak  to  know  your  notion.  It  has 
coom  into  my  head  mony  times  o'  late  that  if  he 


140  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

did  have  one,  she  looked  as  much  lak  her  as  one 
apple  seed  looks  lak  anither." 

This  remark  was  accompanied  by  a  twirl  of 
his  big  thumb  towards  the  quarry. 

A  fleeting  smile  crossed  Keith's  face  at  the 
queer  conceit,  followed  closely  by  a  deep  drawn 
sigh. 

"Andy,  my  faith  in  my  Master  has  never  had 
so  severe  a  trial  as  this.  I  simply  have  no  cour- 
age or  strength  with  which  to  go  forward." 

"No,  Master  Keith,"  said  Andy,  with  loving 
sympathy  in  his  voice  and  a  swift  pressure  of 
his  hand  on  Keith's.  "O'  coorse  ye  hae  none  o' 
yoursel'.  But  yo'  mind  what  Peter  says,  'The 
Lord  knoweth  how  tae  deliver  the  godly  out  o' 
temptations  an'  tae  reserve  th'  unjust  unto  th' 
day  o'  judgment  t'  be  punished.'  Can  ye  no 
leave  the  lad  in  th'  Lord's  hands  ?  There  never 
lived  a  more  godly  lad  than  Master  Mac  was 
less  than  a  year  gone  by,  sae  th'  promise  is  for 
him.  Who  o'  us  can  tell  what  may  coom  oot  o' 
all  this  evil  ?  Ye  ken  Peter  says  i'  anither 
place,  'Though  noo  for  a  season,  if  need  be,  ye 
are  i'  heaviness  through  manifold  temptations, 
that  th'  trial  o'  your  faith,  bein'  much  more  pre- 
cious than  o'  gold  that  perisheth,  though  it  be 
tried  in  fire,  might  be  foun'  unto  praise  an' 
honor  an'  glory  at  th'  appear  in'  o'  Jesus  Christ.' 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  141 

"Th'  Lord's  ways  are  nae  our  ways,  Master 
Keith.  I'd  gie  my  puir  life  before  th'  sun 
mounts  an  hour  higher  in  th'  sky  to  bring  our 
dear  lad  where  he  was  six  months  back  even,  an' 
glad  an'  proud  tae  do  't.  For  all  I  am  I  owe, 
under  God,  tae  his  splendid  stand  agen  a  man 
crazed  wi'  drink.  But  that  is  nae  th'  work 
Andy  Graham's  got  tae  doo  for  his  Master,  noo. 
He's  got  to  stan'  by  'n  see  th'  wicked  spring  as 
th'  grass  an'  all  the  workers  of  iniquity  nour- 
ish— just  as  David  did — but,  praise  be  to  th' 
Lord,  Master  Keith,  for  lo!  thine  enemies  shall 
perish.  All  the  workers  o'  iniquity  shall  per- 
ish." 

"But  can  you  do  this  patiently,  Andy  ?"  in- 
quired Keith.  "I  feel  bowed  to  the  very  dust  in 
shame  at  my  impatience.  I  am  continually  im- 
pelled to  take  hold  of  Mac  bodily  and  carry  him 
out  of  their  clutches  and  lock  him  away  beyond 
harm's  reach." 

"Would  he  be  beyond  the  reach  o'  harm  alone 
wi'  his  own  heart  an'  ye  should  lock  him  oop,  do 
ye  think  ?  Ye  ken  that  th'  heart  is  deceitful 
above  all  things  an'  desperately  wicked,"  was 
Andy's  quiet  question,  to  which  there  came  no 
answer. 

"Have  you  been  able  tae  hand  him,  Master 
Keith  ?  Will  he  hear  tae  all  your  kind,  lovin' 


142  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

words  ?  Doos  he  coom  tae  ye  wi'  all  his  joys  an' 
his  plans  as  he  used  tae  do  ?" 

Keith  could  not  speak.    He  shook  his  head. 

"Kay,  he  does  nane  o'  these.  Th'  man  in  'im 
can  no  be  held  by  you  nor  me  nor  any  ither  man 
as  th'  boy  was.  We've  lost  him,  Master  Keith. 
An'  noo  it  becooms  us,  as  gude  sarvants  o'  our 
blessed  Master,  when  we've  tried  to  do  our  part 
faithful'  an'  true  an'  the  wark's  gotten  too  heavy 
for  our  puir  weak  han's,  tae  stan'  by  an'  let  Him 
tak  hold.  It's  harder  by  mony  a  pound  than 
liftin'  the  heftiest  eend,  but  we've  got  nae  choice, 
Master  Keith,  we've  got  nae  choice.  We  c'n 
pray  for  'm  an'  love  him  'n  do  what  cooms  i' 
the  way,  but  it's  the  Lord  Almighty  alone  can 
save  MacDonald  Caldwell  frae  this  day  out." 

An  instinctive  defense  of  the  boy  he  loved  so 
well  leaped  to  Keith's  lips. 

"Oh!  don't  say  that,  Andy,"  he  pleaded. 
"Mac  isn't  hopelessly  lost  by  any  means.  Only 
yesterday  he  was  with  us  all  day,  his  own  bright 
merry  self.  And  I'm  sure  he  has  not —  He 
hesitated,  fearing  to  wound  Andy  by  any  refer- 
ence to  liquor. 

"Has  nae  begun  tae  drink,"  quietly  finished 
Andy.  "Nae,  not  yet,  mayhap,  but  he  will.  !N"o 
lad  o'  his  age  can  gi'  oop  th'  sanctuary  an'  th' 
Master's  work  an'  begin  to  spend  his  days  wi' 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  143 

such  as  she,  and  stay  lang  awa'  frae  th'  cup. 
It's  coomin',  Master  Keith ;  it's  coomin',  an'  I'm 
prayin'  wi'  every  breath  I  draw  that  th'  dear 
Lord'll  let  me  be  th'  one  tae  dash  it  frae  his  lips 
as  he  did  frae  mine.  But  th'  time's  not  yet. 
He's  got  tae  gang  th'  whole  bitter  way  before  he 
cooms  tae  his  senses,  in  th'  Father's  own  gude 
time." 

"I  wish  I  had  your  strong  faith  and  ability 
to  see  the  end  from  the  beginning,  Andy.  My 
own  heart  is  so  sore  beset  that  I  can  only  try  to 
keep  a  tight  grip  on  the  Father's  hand,  and 
stumble  on  in  the  darkness." 

"  'Tis  nae  your  grip  on  him,  Master  Keith, 
but  his  grip  on  you  that  counts.  You  ken  that 
by  th'  bonnie  bairn  haudin'  tae  its  daddy's  fist. 
How  could  sae  wee  a  thing  keep  tae  bit  feet 
frae  trippin'  ?  But  when  th'  man's  braw 
muscles  tak  hold — how  easy  the  laddie  mak's 
his  way.  An'  sometimes,  Master  Keith,  ye've 
lakly  seen  th'  fayther  let  go  his  grip  an'  leave 
th'  toddler  gae  alone — as  he  thought — an'  may- 
hap he  stumbled  or  even  fell  mony  a  time,  but 
th'  big,  lovin'  han'  was  always  near  tae  bring 
th'  wee  bit  legs  safely  o'er  when  they  couldna 
haud  out  nae  langer,  an'  all  the  whiles  they  was 
growin'  stronger  an'  mair  fit  for  all  the  walkin' 
they  was  tae  do  day  after  day. 


144  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Our  Mac  is  th'  dear  Lord's  ain  laddie.  He's 
a  stumblin'  now,  an'  maylike  will  fall,  an'  fall 
hard,  but  th'  Father's  everlastin'  arms  is  under 
him,  an'  he'll  find  it  out  some  o'  these  days,  an' 
coom  back  t'  bring  th'  sunlight  to  us  all  once 
more." 

"God  grant  it,  Andy,"  said  Keith,  rising. 
"Pray  for  him,  and  pray  for  me  as  well." 

He  rose  abruptly  and,  climbing  down  the 
rocks,  turned  his  face  homeward. 

"Th'  dear  man's  nigh  daft  wi'  th'  heaviness 
o'  all  this,"  mused  Andy,  watching  the  retreat- 
ing figure  with  loving  gaze.  "He's  been  sae 
strong  an'  helpfu'  for  us  all,  an'  now  that  his 
ain  trial's  on  him,  he's  sunken  under  it.  Dear 
Lord  Jesus,  an'  it  be  thy  will,  gie  me  th'  glad 
work  o'  easin'  him  in  ony  way.  Tak  pity  on 
his  achin'  heart,  an'  gie  him  a  portion  o'  thine 
ain  spirit.  Point  out  tae  him  some  word  i'  thy 
ain  blessed  book  to  comfort  him  an'  gie  him 
strength.  An',  dear  Master,  dinna  let  our  bon- 
nie  lad  gae  very  far  frae  thee,  not  sae  far  as 
Peter  did,  not  sae  far  as  Andy  Graham.  They 
were  not  sae  young  an'  tender,  dear  Jesus.  Be 
more  merciful  tae  him.  For  thy  ain  name's 
sake.  Amen." 

Keith  had  not  gone  very  far  down  the  moun- 
tain before  he  met  Louise.  How  fair  and  sweet 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  145 

she  was  he  thought,  all  his  sadness  lightened  for 
the  moment  by  her  dear  presence. 

"O  Mr.  Keith!  I'm  so  glad  you  are  on  your 
way  home.  Auntie  Jean  told  me  you  had  gone 
up  to  the  chapel,  and  I  came  to  find  you,  for  I 
want  to  speak  to  you  about  Mac." 

"Very  well.  Suppose  we  walk  over  near  the 
chapel  and  find  a  pleasant  seat  there." 

But  Louise  could  not  wait  until  then,  to  be- 
gin on  the  subject  of  which  her  mind  and  heart 
were  so  full. 

"Mr.  Keith,"  she  asked  at  once,  "couldn't  you 
take  Mac  away  for  a  trip  somewhere  this  sum- 
mer, a  long  trip,  across  the  ocean  or  to  Cali- 
fornia ?" 

"Why?"  asked  Keith,  slowly. 

"Oh !  to  get  him  away  from— from — from 
things  that  are  not  good  for  him.  You  know 
what  I  mean,  don't  you,  Mr.  Keith  ?" 

"Yes,  Louise,  I  know.  I  have  thought  of  that 
myself,  but,  do  you  know,  that  Mac  will  be 
twenty-one  in  October?  He  is  a  man  now,  and 
we  cannot  'take  him  oft7'  as  we  could  when  he 
was  a  boy.  Not  long  ago  I  broached  the  sub- 
ject to  him,  and  he  would  not  talk  of  it.  He  is 
under  a  stronger  influence  now  than  ours." 

.  "But  I  think,  Mr.  Keith,  from  something  he 
said  to  me  yesterday,  that  he  doesn't  want  to  be 
10 


146  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

under  Mrs.  Vandyne's  influence.  I  believe  lie 
is  sorry  sometimes  and  unhappy,  but — oh!  I 
don't  understand  very  well,  but  I  think  he  is 
like  those  sailors  who  listened  to  the  sirens  in 
the  old  Greek  story — and  that  somebody  ought 
to  lash  him  to  the  rigging  as  they  lashed  Ulysses, 
wasn't  it?  It  seems  to  me  as  if  we  were  just 
all  sitting  still  and  letting  him  sail  right  on 
away  from  us  without  doing  a  thing.  Violet 
wants  to  lecture  him,  but  that  will  only  make 
things  worse.  Isn't  there  anything  we  can  do, 
Mr.  Keith,  besides  praying  for  him  and  loving 
him?" 

Almost  Andy's  very  words.  Keith  looked 
into  the  dark,  troubled  eyes,  and  then  a  strange 
thing  happened.  He  who  had  been  so  weak  and 
downcast  beside  the  rock  of  Andy's  faith,  now 
that  he  was  called  to  help  another,  felt  his  faint- 
ing heart  grow  strong. 

"We  will  try,  Louise.  Mac  has  not  been  much 
with  us  since  he  came  home,  as  you  know,  and 
my  efforts  to  interest  him  in  our  old  work  have 
failed  almost  wholly.  I  think  little  can  be  done 
here ;  but  suppose  we  plan  to  spend  a  month  or 
two  cruising  along  the  coast  from  New  York  to 
Bar  Harbor.  I  have  a  friend  who  will  not  be 
using  his  yacht  this  fall,  and  I'm  sure  arrange- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  147 

ments  can  be  made.  Mac  has  always  been  in- 
tensely interested  in  yachting  ever  since  our 
month's  cruise  with  the  Munroes  on  their  trim 
little  craft,  The  Osprey.  Janet  and  Hilda,  you 
and  Violet,  Mac  and  I  shall  be  the  party,  and,  if 
there's  room,  we'll  invite  your  sister  and  Mark 
and  Marcia." 

"Oh!  how  delightful,"  cried  Louise,  over- 
joyed. "But  won't  it  cost  a  good  deal,  Mr. 
Keith,  to  take  so  many  of  us  ?" 

"It  will  cost  something,  of  course,  but  I  have 
a  bit  of  money  laid  away,  Louise,  which  I  would 
gladly  use  to  make  you — I  mean,  to  make  Mac 
his  old  self  again." 

The  dark  eyes  were  brilliant  now,  and  a  pretty 
rose  flush  deepened  in  her  cheeks  as  she  said, 
"Thank  you  more  than  I  can  ever  say,  Mr. 
Keith.  I  felt  sure  that  you  would  think  of 
something  practicable.  And  I'm  sure,  too,  that 
if  Mac  could  only  be  away  from  all  that  crowd 
a  while,  he  would  think  of  them  just  as  we  do. 
JSTow,  when  shall  we  tell  the  others  about  our 
voyage  and  begin  to  get  ready  ?" 

"Just  as  soon  as  I  hear  from  Gregory.  He's 
tied  at  home  by  business  this  summer,  so  is  in 
New  York,  and  it  won't  take  long  to  hear.  I'll 
go  home  and  write  to  him  now,  so  the  letter  can 
go  down  on  the  afternoon  mail." 


148  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"And  will  you  ask  Mac,  or  shall  I — or,  per- 
haps, we'd  better  both  talk  with  him  together." 

"I  should  think  you  would  be  the  better  one, 
Miss  Lucinda,"  he  replied,  with  a  droll  glance. 
"I've  noticed  that  you  usually  get  what  you  ask 
for." 

"What  I  ask  you  for — yes,"  she  quickly  an- 
swered. "But  every  one  is  not  so  good  as  you 
are,  Mr.  Keith." 

Again  the  vivid  color  stained  her  face  from 
throat  to  brow,  and,  turning  from  him,  she  be- 
gan gathering  a  bunch  of  daisies  along  the  road- 
side. 


CHAPTEK  XI. 
ANDY'S  WOEK. 

MRS.  VANDYNE  could  not  immediately 
forget  her  annoyance  at  not  meeting 
Andy,  and  she  at  first  allowed  Mac  to  do  most  of 
the  talking  as  they  made  the  rounds  of  the 
quarry.  He  was,  in  fact,  kept  busy  pointing 
out  various  features  of  the  work  in  which  she 
gradually  became  so  interested  as  to  regain  her 
usual  vivacity.  Everywhere  the  men  looked  up 
to  see  the  visitors;  some  pulled  off  their  caps, 
with  a  hearty  greeting  to  "Mr.  Mac"  and  ad- 
miring glances  in  her  direction;  some  touched 
their  forelocks  in  half  surly  fashion;  others 
merely  nodded  without  stopping  their  work, 
while  a  few  spoke  to  her  by  name  and  were  eager 
to  talk  of  what  they  were  doing. 

One  of  these  last,  a  stalwart  Irishman,  took 
his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  looked  after  the 
two  as  they  rode  away. 

"That's  as  swate  a  leddy  as  the  sun  often 
shines  on,  eh,  Jim  ?" 

"She's  doin'  a  swate  thing  for  us  if  she  gits 


150  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Mr.  Mac  under  her  thumb,"  replied  his  com- 
panion, squinting  along  the  top  of  a  huge  block 
of  granite.  "He's  the  light  o'  Mr.  Keith's  eyes, 
an'  of  the  ole  man's,  too,  an'  they'd  let  this  place 
go  to  blazes  sooner'n  cross  him.  Ef  he  wants 
the  men  to  have  a  place  where  they  can  git  the 
stuff  up  here,  the  place  will  be  here." 

"You're  a-talkin'  out  o'  yore  mouth  now,  ain't 
ye,  Jim  Maloney  ?"  spoke  up  a  red-headed  little 
man  not  far  off.  "If  you'd  lived  here's  long's  T 
hev,  you'd  know  Mr.  Keith  better'n  all  that. 
He  wouldn't  no  sooner  hev  a  saloon  up  in  the 
Quarry  village  than  he'd  stand  in  a  blast,  Mr. 
Mac  or  no  Mr.  Mac." 

"He'd  better  be  mighty  quick  about  keepiri' 
it  out  then,"  called  out  a  slim  young  fellow  be- 
low them.  "The  first  load  o'  goods  came  up  the 
mountain  this  mornin',  an'  by  this  time  is  un- 
packed in  Hermann's  store." 

"Oh!  he  don't  care  nothin'  about  the  store. 
That's  all  right  enough  so  long's  no  liquor's 
sold." 

"Wall,"  announced  Jim,  dexterously  dis- 
charging a  slender  brown  line  of  tobacco  juice, 
"liquor's  goin'  to  be  sold  there,  or  some  of  us 
will  know  the  reason  why.  This  here's  a  free 
country,  an'— 

"Yes,  Jim,  to  be  sure  it's  a  free  country,"  in- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  151 

terrupted  Bill,  who  dearly  loved  an  argument 
for  the  argument's  sake,  irrespective  of  the 
merits  of  the  question,  "but,  you  know,  the  ma- 
jority rules.  Now,  if  you  was  to  canvass  the 
Quarry  village  man  by  man — 

"Canvass  nothing,"  burst  out  Jim,  scornfully. 
"I  guess  the  minority's  got  some  show.  Ef  you 
ever  read  the  papers,  you'd  find  out  thet  there's 
always  a  minority  report  down  ter  Congress  in 
Washington.  Now,  ef  the  minority  ain't  got  no 
show,  what  in  thunder's  the  use  of  them  makin' 
a  report  ?  The  liquor  men's  in  the  minority  up 
here,  but  they're  a-goin'  to  make  a  rousin'  big 
report  all  the  same,  you  bet.  An'  that  report, 
backed  by  Hermann  brothers  an'  Mac  Caldwell, 
is  goin'  to  make  things  hum." 

"But  Mac  Caldwell  ain't  no  liquor  man,  Jim 
Maloney,"  asserted  Tommy  Lowe,  nodding  his 
red  head.  "I  mind  well  how  he  knocked  the 
glass  o'  toddy  Andy  fixed  up  fer  him  in  a  fit  o' 
deviltry  all  ter  smash  on  the  door  stone.  I've 
heard  old  Robert  tell  the  story  more  than  once. 
And  from  that  day  Andy  began  to  straighten 
out.  No,.  Jim,  you're  way  off  there,  Mac  Cald- 
well ain't  no  liquor  man." 

"He  ain't,  ain't  he?"  drawled  Jim,  winking 
slyly  at  Bill.  "Wall,  with  that  ere  spruce  little 
pardner  o'  his'n,  how  long5!!  ye  give  him?  I 


152  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

figure  it'll  take  jest  about  six  weeks  or  mebbe 
not — " 

A  quick,  low  whistle  cut  short  his  calcula- 
tions. Each  of  the  men  giving  instant  heed  to 
the  signal,  saw  Andy  walking  leisurely  towards 
them. 

"Good-morning,  men !"  he  said,  pleasantly. 
"You're  gettin'  on  fine  wi'  that  bit  o'  trouble- 
some wark,  Jim.  I  stopped  by  your  house  as  1 
coom  up.  I  thou't  ye'd  lak  tae  know  how  the 
wee  bit  lassie  is  since  the  sunrise  when  ye  left 
her.  Th'  doctor  was  there  an'  says  she's  im- 
provin'  grand,  an'  that  the  fever's  not  lakly  tae 
coom  back  the  nicht.  It  made  my  heart  glad  tae 
see  that  she  kenned  me  an'  put  out  her  bits  o' 
fists  tae  me.  It's  a  great  thing,  Jim,  tae  have 
a  leetle  child  lak  that  tae  call  you  fayther.  It 
keeps  a  mon  frae  mony  a  sinfu'  deed." 

Jim  mumbled  some  inarticulate  answer  and 
turned  away,  brushing  his  sleeve  hastily  across 
his  eyes.  He  had  not  spoken  to  his  comrades  of 
the  sick  little  one  at  home,  wrhose  serious  condi- 
tion was  understood  by  them  all.  He  had  joked 
and  sworn  and  been  his  usual  self  through  all 
the  anxious  days  of  the  past  week,  and  many 
had  thought  him  unfeeling.  Now  the  most  care- 
less realized  something  of  the  aching  heart  he 
had  carried.  He  disappeared  around  a  big 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  153 

boulder,  and,  creeping  away  to  a  quiet  spot,  he 
fell  on  his  knees,  his  huge  frame  all  a-quiver 
with  thankfulness. 

"O  Lord  !  I  don't  know  how  to  say  the  words, 
hut  you  understand,  don't  you  ?  I  ain't  a-goin' 
to  do  nothin'  more  that'll  hurt  her.  Amen." 

The  sharp  echoing  report  of  a  blast  in  an- 
other part  of  the  quarry  came  rolling  across  to 
the  group  of  men  with  whom  Andy  still  stood. 
A  moment  later  another  more  startling  sound 
fell  on  their  ears,  the  quick  ring  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  over  the  rocky  roadway.  All  knew  whit 
it  meant  and  sprang  forward.  By  this  time 
Don  was  in  sight,  tearing  down  .towards  them, 
wild  with  fright,  entirely  beyond  control  of  the 
firm  rein  with  which  his  mistress,  white  as  death 
but  self-possessed,  was  trying  in  vain  to  restrain 
him. 

A  dozen  hands  reached  out  to  grasp  the  bridle, 
but  it  was  Andy's  which  gripped  it  first.  Lu- 
cille had  had  her  wish.  She  was  again  face  to 
face  with  the  man  who  had  prevented  her  on- 
ward progress.  Once  more  he  had  stopped  her 
horse  in  peremptory  fashion  without  asking  her 
leave.  For  a  second  time  the  beautiful  dark 
eyes  and  the  steadfast  grey  ones  met,  and  now, 
as  then,  the  man  was  the  master. 

She  did  not  faint  when  they  lifted  her  down 


154  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

from  the  trembling  creature,  who  could  hardly 
yet  be  reassured  by  the  gentle  words  and  touches 
of  the  men  about  him.  With  a  low-spoken 
phrase  of  thanks  to  them  all  in  general,  she 
walked  to  a  stone  near  by  and  seated  herself 
quite  complacently.  Scarcely  had  she  done  so 
when  Mr.  Hermann  came  riding  up,  and  be- 
hind him,  some  way  off,  Mac,  on  foot,  running. 
Andy  gave  him  one  swift,  searching  look  as  he 
came  near,  and,  satisfied  that  he  was  not  hurt, 
turned  quietly  and  walked,  unobserved,  away 
from  the  crowd  which  had  gathered  as  if  by 
magic. 

Without  stopping  or  looking  behind  him  he 
kept  steadily  on  up  the  mountain,  then  along 
its  ridge  until  he  reached  a  secluded  spot,  scene 
of  many  solitary  communings  with  his  Father 
in  heaven.  Quite  far  from  any  travelled  road, 
it  yet  overlooked  the  whole  Ammo-net  Valley, 
beautifully  spread  out  below.  Andy  had  often 
thought  it  must  have  been  on  some  such  "ex- 
ceeding high  mountain"  that  the  devil  took  the 
Saviour  when  he  "showed  him  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world  and  the  glory  of  them,"  but  never 
until  to-day  had  he  felt  as  if  the  tempter  was 
sharing  with  him  personally  the  sanctity  of  his 
retreat. 

In  utter  bewilderment  and  dumb  despair  he 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  155 

sat  there,  looking  down  over  the  peaceful  scene 
with  eyes  that  saw  not.  What  could  it  mean  ? 

;He  was  willing  to  save  MacDonald  from 
further  marring  of  his  bright  young  life  with 
his  own  existence.  The  words  he  had  spoken  -o 
Keith  were  not  idle  ones.  Since  the  hour  that 
the  boy's  resolute  action  had  formed  the  turn- 
ing point  in  his  own  career,  Mac  had  been  dear- 
est of  all  living  things  to  him,  >  and  he  would 
have  gladly,  eagerly,  as  he  said,  died  for  him. 

His  big,  loving,  compassionate  heart  yearned 
over  Keith  in  the  hour  of  his  disappointment 
and  leaped  forward  with  still  more  tender  sym- 
pathy for  him  during  the  darker  hours  which 
were  to  come.  He  had  prayed  earnestly  that 
his  might  be  the  task  of  lightening  in  some  way 
the  burden  of  that  sorrowful  heart. 

And  here,  within  an  hour  almost,  was  the 
work  which  came  to  his  hand :  to  save  the  life  of 
the  woman  who  was  luring  Mac  to  destruc- 
tion. 

Poor  Andy !  He  could  almost  feel  the  tan- 
gible presence  of  a  sinister  companion — evil, 
mocking,  malicious — tempting  him  to  distrust 
his  Lord.  Long  he  sat  motionless,  staring 
straight  before  him.  Closer  and  more  sombre 
the  thick  clouds  closed  around  him,  until  no 
ray  pierced  the  gloom.  For  the  first  and  only 


156  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

time  in  his  Christian  life  he  was  parted  from 
his  Master. 

Strange  questions  thronged  his  mind.  Could 
it  be  that  things  just  happened  after  all  ?  Was 
there  no  guiding  hand  at  the  helm  of  this  and 
every  other  world  ?  If  so,  surely  he,  of  all  men, 
would  not  have  been  chosen  to  stop  the  terrified 
horse.  It  must,  indeed,  be  a  God  who  enjoyed 
the  torture  of  his  creatures  to  so  allot  their  ac- 
tions. What  could  exceed  the  mockery  of  such 
an  answer  to  a  sincere  prayer!  But  was  it  an 
answer?  Was  there  really  such  a  thing  as  an 
answer  to  any  prayer  ? 

Heavier  still  grew  the  darkness  until  it  cov- 
ered him  as  with  a  pall  and  bowed  his  head 
upon  his  hands.  Bitter  and  more  bitter  grew 
the  pain  in  his  heart  until  he  could  endure  it  no 
longer.  Springing  erect  and  throwing  his  arms 
out,  he  cried  aloud,  "Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan. 
Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him." 

Then  he  fell  on  his  knees.  Motionless,  word- 
less, he  waited  for  the  help  which  had  never 
failed  him.  And  soon,  softly,  sweetly,  bless- 
edly, like  the  clear  chimes  of  silver  bells : 

"Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled;  ye  believe 
in  God,  believe  also  in  me." 

"If  ye  shall  ask  anything  in  my  name,  I  will 
do  it." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  157 

"Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse 
you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for 
them  that  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute 
you." 

"For  lo!  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  to  the 
end  of  the  world." 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

EOSE  PETALS. 

ME.  KEITH  despatched  the  letter  to  nis 
friend  Gregory  without  delay.  A  prompt 
answer  came  back  saying  that  the  White  Cap, 
which  was  at  present  on  its  way  to  Boston, 
would  have  returned  to  New  York  by  Septem- 
ber first,  and  would  then  be  heartily  at  the  ser- 
vice of  Keith  and  his  friends.  Mr.  Gregory 
also  stated  that  she  accommodated  twelve  passen- 
gers besides  the  crew. 

"I'm  afraid  that  will  be  too  late  for  the  Maine 
coast,  Louise,  but  we  can  arrange  some  other 
trip,  to  Norfolk  or  possibly  Charleston,"  Mr. 
Keith  explained  at  the  first  opportunity. 

"It  really  doesn't  make  much  difference 
where  we  go.  Now,  the  next  thing  is  to  get 
Mac  to  promise  to  join  our  party.  Sometimes 
I  think  we'd  better  have  Violet  ask  him.  You 
know  he  is  devoted  to  Violet." 

Keith  could  not  help  a  quick  look  at  the  quiet, 
unruffled  face  of  the  girl. 

"How  beautifully  unselfish  she  is,"  he 
thought,  wistfully.  "There  never  was  such  an- 
other lovely  character — as  my  darling." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  159 

"Here  she  comes  now/'  she  added  in  a  low 
tone.  "Suppose  we  tell  her." 

Her  swiftly  upraised  eves  met  the  answer  in 
his  by  the  time  Violet  joined  them. 

"Secrets  again !"  that  young  lady  exclaimed 
gaily.  "You  two  do  have  the  most  confabs. 
What  is  it  now  ?  Something  for  a  poor  needy 
youngster,  I  know  well  enough." 

But  Louise  could,  not  smile  at  her  pleas- 
antry. 

"You've  guessed  nearer  the  truth  than  you 
imagine,  dear,"  she  said,  soberly.  "We're  ar- 
ranging a  little  yacht  excursion — for  Mac." 

"Oh-h !" 

The  soft  exclamation  was  prolonged.  Then 
Violet  stood  quite  still,  in  a  way  she  often  had 
when  she  wished  to  conceal  her  real  feelings. 
It  seemed  as  though  by  sheer  will  she  held  her- 
self in  absolute  quiet.  She  listened,  without  re- 
mark, to  the  details  of  the  plan. 

"And  I  thought,"  concluded  Louise,  "that 
you  would  be  the  best  one  to  tell  Mac  of  it. 
Doesn't  it  seem  strange,"  she  continued,  with  a 
sigh,  "that  we  have  to  manage  in  such  a  schem- 
ing sort  of  way  ?  Only  a  short  while  ago  he 
would  have  been  the  most  eager  and  interested 
of  us  all.  And  now  we  are  so  afraid  that  he 
won't  even  be  willing  to  talk  of  it.  Sometimes 


160  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

I  feel  as  though  I  were  having  a  horrid  dream, 
as  though  it  could  not  really  be  true  that  Mac 
has  changed  so  much.  Mrs.-  Vandyne  doesn't 
seem  to  be  a  wicked  woman,  do  you  think  she 
does,  Mr.  Keith  ?  She  isn't  like  Auntie  Jean  or 
sister,  and  I  never  exactly  liked  her ;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  she  is  so  handsome  and  gracious  and 
friendly  that  one  wouldn't  suspect  her  of  being 
so — so  wrong." 

"That  is  just  where  Mac  is  being  deceived," 
said  Keith.  "He  sees  only  the  attractive  sur- 
face. If  he  suspected  the  unscrupulous  and  sel- 
fish, and,  I  fear,  really  unprincipled  character 
beneath  all  the  polish  and  charm  which  so  fasci- 
nates him,  I  think  he  would  very  quickly  be  dis- 
enchanted." 

"But  why  doesn't  he  know  it  as  we  do,  or,  at 
least,  believe  you  when  you  tell  him  ?"  asked 
Louise,  the  clear-eyed,  looking  up  at  Keith. 

"Because  the  time  has  come  when  he  will  no 
longer  take  things  second  hand,  Louise.  He 
must  learn  by  experience,  as  we  all  have  to  do. 
Some  day  he  will  find  out  that  Mrs.  Vandyne  is 
not  the  friend  she  appears  to  be." 

"Yes,  I  know  he  will,"  said  Louise,  with  such 
a  quaint  air  of  absolute  conviction  that  both  her 
companions  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "I  know 
he  will  be  all  right  again  after  awhile,"  she  con- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  161 

tinned.  "What  troubles  me  is  that  nothing  is 
being  done  to  keep  him  from  doing  all  these 
things  which  he  will  regret  so  keenly.  It  seems 
to  me  that  if  friends  are  worth  anything,  they 
ought  to  come  forward  at  such  a  time  as  this 
and  hold  people  back  from  going  on  the  wrong 
road.  Then  the  whole  weary  way  will  not  have 
to  be  walked  over  again  coming  back  to  the  right 
place.  And  so  I'm  delighted  that  you  thought 
of  this  yachting  party,  Mr.  Keith.  If  we  can 
get  him  away  for  a  time,  I  feel  sure  everything 
will  adjust  itself.  ISTow,  Violet,  will  you  see 
Mac  to-day  ?" 

Violet,  during  this  conversation,  had  been 
fighting  a  battle  with  her  pride.  The  memory 
of  her  last  interview  with  the  imperious  young 
man  was  still  vividly  fresh  in  her  mind,  and, 
with  all  her  sweetness  and  sinceritv,  she  could 
not  quite  relish  seeking  an  interview  with  him — 
just  yet.  But  by  the  time  the  direct  question 
came  she  was  ready  with  her  answer:  "If  you 
wish  it,  dear;  but  it  is  only  fair  to  tell  you 
that  Mac  and  I  had  a — well,  a  sort  of — if  I 
were  a  boy,  it  would  have  been  a  scrap  the  other 
day,  and — " 

The  rest  of  her  sentence  was  drowned  in  the 
irrepressible  laughter  of  her  hearers. 

Violet  and  a — scrap!  Such  a  juxtaposition 
11 


162  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

of  ideas  was  hardly  to  be  grasped.  And  a  scrap 
with  Mac  of  all  people ! 

Violet  waited,  with  pretty  dignity,  until  they 
were  quiet. 

"And  so,"  she  went  on,  her  color  slightly 
heightened,  "I'm  afraid  he  may  not  listen  to  me 
as  willingly  as  to  you." 

"Do  excuse  me,  Violet,"  began  Louise.  "I 
really  couldn't  help  laughing  at  the  thought  of 
your  falling  out  with  Mac,  or  he  with  you. 
You'll  never  be  able  to  convince  me  that  what- 
ever the  trouble  was  it  has  lasted  all  this 
time;  so  you  may  consider  yourself  em- 
powered to  act  as  committee  of  invitation  and 
explanation  and  all  the  rest ;  shall  she  not,  Mr. 
Keith  ?  There !  I  hear  him  now  whistling  to 
Haco." 

Louise  stepped  to  the  end  of  the  porch  and 
looked  across  towards  Standish  Hall. 

"Shall  I  call  him  to  come  over,  Violet  ?" 

For  answer  Violet  herself  made  a  trumpet  of 
her  hands  and  uttered  a  peculiar,  clear  cry.  It 
was  at  once  answered  in  similar  fashion. 

"He'll  be  here  soon.  That  is  a  call  Papa 
taught  me  when  I  was  a  little  girl." 

"And  now,  Miss  Lucinda,  since  we  have  not 
been  asked  to  stay,  suppose  we  take  our  leave," 
said  Keith,  gravely,  offering  his  arm  with  much 
ceremony. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  163 

They  had  barely  disappeared  within  the 
house  when  Mac  came  striding  across  the  lawn, 
Haco  at  his  heels.  He  found  Violet,  serene  and 
lovely,  in  a  pretty  white  gown,  seated  on  a  low 
chair,  pulling  the  petals  from  a  bunch  of  roses. 

"An'  what  is  your  will,  ladye  faire?"  he 
asked,  doffing  his  cap  and  sprawling  down  on 
the  veranda  steps. 

"That  you  make  yourself  useful  a  little  while 
by  helping  fill  a  rose-jar  for  Jeanie,"  she  an- 
swered, tossing  him  a  branch.  "There's  a  bowl 
behind  you  on  the  shelf.  Don't  put  in  any  but 
perfect  leaves." 

Quite  obediently  he  set  to  work,  casting  an 
occasional  side-glance  towards  his  neighbor,  for 
he,  too,  had  a  distinct  recollection  of  their  last 
meeting. 

"Did  you  know,  Mac,"  she  said  suddenly, 
shaking  a  lot  of  the  sweet-smelling  crumples 
down  in  the  bowl  on  her  lap,  "that  Cousin  Keith 
is  going  to  take  us  all  off  for  a  cruise  in  Mr. 
Gregory's  yacht,  The  White  Cap,  before  a  great 
while?  He's  just  been  telling  Louise  and  me 
about  it.  Won't  it  be  fun,  and  won't  you  teach 
me  to  steer,  Mac?  I  remember  watehing  the 
man  at  the  wheel  on  the  Osprey  last  summer, 
and  just  longing  to  know  how  to  use  it." 

Mac's  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  roses,  and  he  did 


164  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

not  reply  at  once.    It  was  now  Violet's  turn  for 
covert  glances. 

"What  makes  you  take  it  for  granted  that  I 
will  go,  Violet  ?"  he  finally  asked. 

"Why,  because  you  will  have  such  a  lovely 
time,  of  course,"  said  she.  "Who  wouldn't  go 
off  on  a  yacht  if  they  had  the  chance  ?" 

A  tiny  sigh  of  relief  escaped  Mac.  He  looked 
up  at  her  now,  reassured  by  the  frank  candor  of 
her  answer. 

"When  is  he  going?" 

"About  the  first  of  September.  He  wanted  to 
start  right  away,  but  some  other  friends  of  Mr. 
Gregory  are  using  The  White  Cap  now.  If  the 
weather  is  good,  we  may  be  gone  two  or  three 
weeks.  There'll  be  just  our  family,  with  Louise 
and  Marcia,  Mark  and  little  Marcia  and  you. 
Won't  we  have  a  beautiful  time,  Mac  ?" 

Before  he  could  reply  steps  were  heard  on 
the  gravel  walk,  and  Dr.  Strong  made  his  ap- 
pearance around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

At  sight  of  the  charming  picture  brought  so 
unexpectedly  to  his  view,  the  stalwart  doctor 
stopped  quite  still,  blushing  with  embarrass- 
ment at  having  interrupted  a  lover-like  tete-a- 
tete,  as  he  naturally  supposed,  and  feeling  at 
the  same  time  a  jealous  tug  at  his  heart-strings. 

Mac,  too,  was  red  at  the  thought  that  "the 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  165 

old  idiot"  had  come  to  call  on  Violet  in  so  un- 
conventional a  way,  and  Violet's  fair  face  was 
crimson  with  the  remembrance  of  the  last  time 
Mac  had  spoken  the  doctor's  name  to  her. 

That  gentleman  was  not  quicker  to  see  than 
to  interpret  in  his  own  fashion  the  mounting 
floods  of  color  and  the  scarcely  concealed  con- 
fusion of  the  two  young  people. 

Violet  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Good-morning,  Dr.  Strong!"  she  said,  ris- 
ing, with  the  bowl  in  one  hand  and  the  other 
extended  to  him  in  graceful  greeting.  "Come 
up  and  have  a  chair  and  help  us,  won't  you  ? 
I'm  sure  you  can't  refuse  when  you  know  it's  for 
Jeanie." 

"That's  a  strong  inducement,  certainly,  Miss 
Violet,"  he  responded,  holding  her  hand  for  a 
second.  "But  my  errand  is  with  Keith,  and 
must  be  a  short  one  this  time.  Good-morning, 
MacDonald !  Glad  to  see  you  at  work." 

He  crossed  over  and  shook  hands  with  Mac,  all 
his  momentary  excitement  subsided. 

"If  your  cousin  is  within,  I'll  hunt  him  up, 
by  vour  leave,  Miss  Violet,"  he  went  on  in  his 
usual  courteous,  kindly  manner.  "Don't  trouble 
to  call  him." 

But  Violet  had  already  gone  in  search  of 
Keith,  whom  she  located  in  the  library,  and 


166  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

thither  the  doctor  made  his  way,  calling  him- 
self more  hard  names  for  his  folly  in  hoping  to 
win  Violet  than  Mac  could  have  conjured  up  in 
twice  the  time. 

That  youth  meanwhile  had  resumed  his  place 
on  the  veranda  steps  and  his  occupation  of  pick- 
ing off  rose  petals  with  a  lowering  brow. 

"Is  he  going?"  was  his  abrupt,  irrelevant 
query. 

"He?  Who?  Oh!— Dr.  Strong!"  exclaimed 
Violet,  with  wide-open  innocent  eyes.  "Oh  !  no, 
I  hope  not.  It  will  be  so  much  nicer  to  have 
just  ourselves,  don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"I  think  it  will  be  a  great  deal  more  com- 
fortable if  he  doesn't  go,"  was  the  rather  evasive 
rejoinder. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,"  agreed  Violet,  cor- 
dially. "These  new  friends  in  the  neighbor- 
hood are  well  enough  for  once  in  a  while,  but 
when  we  want  to  have  the  very  best  of  happy 
times  we  don't  care  for  anybody  but  Standishes 
and  Sylvesters,  do  we?" 

"That  lets  me  out,"  said  Mac,  quickly. 

"By  no  means.  You  are  just  as  truly  a 
Standish  as  though  that  were  your  name.  Your 
mother  was  a  Standish,  you  know.  And  you 
know  well  enough  I  meant  you.  So  don't  try 
to  be  funny,  sir,  but  promise  me  I  shall  have 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  167 

the  very  best  lesson  in  steering  The  White  Cap 
as  soon  as  we  get  started." 

"That's  a  bargain,  if  you'll  give  me  a  prom- 
ise first." 

"Let  me  hear  it  before  I  do  anything  rash." 

"Don't  have  anything  to  do  with  old  Saddle- 
bags while  I'm  gone  to  Europe  this  winter." 

Violet  felt  the  blood  rush  in  a  torrent  to  her 
cheeks,  and  only  just  in  time  checked  the  ex- 
clamation on  the  tip  of  her  tongue. 

"Mac  going  to  Europe  for  the  whole  winter !" 
"Old  Saddle-bags  !"  "Don't  have  anything  to  do 
with  him!" 

Astonishment,  dismay,  indignation,  resent- 
ment, which  was  uppermost  ? 

"Mac,  you  ought  not  to  speak  of  Dr.  Strong 
in  such  a  flippant  way,"  she  said  at  length,  try- 
ing to  speak  calmly.  "He  is  a  gentleman,  and 
a  dear  friend  to  all  of  us." 

"I  know  it,  Violet,  and  I  beg  his  pardon  and 
yours,  but  it  does  make  me  so  wrathy  when  I  see 
him  come  purring  around  you  that  I  can't  stand 
it." 

In  spite  of  herself  a  tiny  smile  crept  around 
Violet's  lips.  That  word  "purring"  seemed  so 
irresistibly  funny  when  applied  to  Dr.  Strong's 
handsome,  manly  self.  Finally  she  laughed  out- 
right. 


168  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Don't  go  to  putting  things  into  my  head, 
Mac.  You  may  do  mischief.  Now  tell  me 
about  this  European  trip  of  yours.  Isn't  it 
quite  a  sudden  idea?" 

"No  and  yes.  Mrs.  Vandyne  has  spoken  in  a 
general  way  several  times  about  my  joining  her 
party  next  summer;  but  quite  recently  she  has 
decided  to  spend  the  winter  abroad,  and  only 
yesterday  she  invited  me  to  go  with  her.  Her 
niece,  Clara  St.  John,  and  another  lady  will  be 
in  the  party." 

"And  is  Uncle  Mark  willing  you  should  go, 
Mac?" 

"No,  Violet,  he  is  not,"  answered  Mac,  slowly. 
"In  fact,  he  told  me  that  he  should  be  very  much 
displeased  and  disappointed  if  I  go  with  Mrs. 
Vandyne.  He's  willing  enough  I  should  go  with 
any  one  else.  But,  you  know,  I  shall  be  twenty- 
one  in  October,  and  shall  then  have  all  the  money 
my  father  left  for  me.  Uncle  Mark  Avill  no 
longer  be  my  guardian.  I  can  do  as  I  please, 
and  I  shall  do  as  I  please.  And  I  please  to  join 
Mrs.  Yandyne's  party,"  he  concluded,  deliber- 
ately. 

Violet's  hands  were  folded  across  her  bowl. 
She  was  regarding  Mac  openly,  and  was  struck, 
as  Louise  had  been,  with  the  change  in  him. 
She  felt,  too,  for  the  first  time,  a  strange  new 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  169 

pride  of  spirit,  which  made  it  impossible  to 
give  him  the  "lecture"  on  the  subject  of  his  ac- 
quaintance with  Mrs.  \randyne  which  only  a 
few  days  before  she  had  been  eager  to  admin- 
ister. 

"If  he  prefers  to  go  with  her,  let  him  go!" 
this  proud  little  something  whispered  in  her  ear. 
So  her  next  words  came  as  a  surprise  to  Mac, 
who  had  expected. and  half  unconsciously  de- 
sired remonstrances  if  not  reproaches,  which  he 
was  ready  to  meet. 

"I  hope  you  will  have  a  lovely  trip,  Mac,  and 
enjoy  it  just  as  much  as  you  anticipate.  And 
you'll  go  with  us  on  The  White  Cap  first,  won't 
you  ?"  she  said  very  gently,  yet  with  a  new  note 
in  her  voice  that  made  him  look  quickly  up  at 
her. 

"Why,  yes,  I  suppose  so.  There'd  be  no  end 
of  a  commotion  if  I  didn't.  And  you  shall  have 
all  the  lessons  at  the  wheel  you  wish  for,"  he 
added,  smiling  genially,  as  if  to  make  up  for  his 
gruffness. 

"Thank  you,  Mac,  and  thank  you  for  doing  all 
this.  Give  me  your  bowl  now — or  you  take 
mine — and  we'll  go  spread  them  in  the  old 
school-room.  I'm  going  to  fill  all  Jeanie's  jars 
this  summer." 

She  walked  beside  him  down  the  hall.     He 


170  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

thought  he  had  never  seen  her  more  lovely,  or 
more  winsome,  nor,  in  some  way  he  could 
neither  understand  nor  explain,  more  remote. 

After  he  had  gone  home  she  sought  for  Keith 
and  Louise,  whom  she  found  still  in  the  library, 
talking  over  chapel  matters.  They  both  looked 
up  eagerly  as  she  entered. 

"He  will  go,"  said  Violet,  in  her  most  quiet 
way,  "and  later  he  is  to  go  abroad  for  the  winter 
with  Mrs.  Vandyne.  Please  excuse  me  now;  I 
must  find  Jeanie." 

So  saying  she  passed  with  noiseless  steps  from 
the  room. 


CHAPTEK  XIII. 

A  SOREY  TIME. 

AT  the  August  meeting  of  the  directors  of 
the  Sylvester  Quarry,  Mr.  Standish 
found  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  make  pur- 
chase of  the  shares  of  stock  before  several  weeks, 
as  the  heirs  of  Dana  Brooks  were  travelling 
abroad,  and  had  instructed  their  agent  to  make 
no  sales  during  their  absence,  and  those  parties 
owning  the  remaining  shares  could  not  be 
reached  without  some  delay.  So  this  way  of 
settling  the  vexed  question  of  liquor  or  no  liquor, 
in  the  Quarry  village  seemed  to  be  blocked  for 
the  present. 

In  the  meantime  the  new  store  was  being 
stocked  and  made  as  attractive  as  energy  and 
money  could  accomplish. 

Mr.  Keith,  with  Andy  and  a  few  others,  used 
their  influence  in  a  quiet  way.  Miss  Janet  and 
Mrs.  Eliot  gave  the  entertainment  for  the  chil- 
dren which  they  had  planned,  and  which  was 
well  attended  both  by  the  little  ones  and  their 
parents,  who  listened  thoughtfully  to  Andy's 
simple,  clear  words;  and  yet  as  the  golden  Au- 
gust days  slipped  swiftly  by,  one  by  one,  towards 


172  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

their  end  with  no  step  taken,  no  real  gain  made 
towards  the  ardently  desired  goal,  a  great  sense 
of  discouragement  settled  down  on  Keith's 
heart.  The  interview  of  the  committee  with  the 
Hermanns  had  been  disappointing.  They  were 
met  with  suave  courtesy,  and  with  the  assurance 
that  the  new  store  would  be  in  no  way  harmful 
to  the  best  interests  of  Sylvester.  All  of  which 
meant  nothing  more  than  that  every  plan  of  the 
Hermann  brothers  would  be  carried  out. 

It  appeared  to  Keith  sometimes  as  though 
he  was  suffering  from  a  species  of  moral  or 
spiritual  paralysis.  He  often  wondered  if,  by 
viewing  the  matter  so  long  at  such  short  range 
and  with  so  intenselv  sympathetic  a  vision,  lie 
had  not  lost  the  true  focus,  the  normal  relativity 
of  persons  and  circumstances  and  actions.  More' 
than  once  he  was  tempted  to  go  off — far  off 
alone — to  get  away  for  a  time  from  the  sight 
and  sound  of  everything  and  everybody  con- 
nected with  the  Quarry  in  order  that  on  his  re- 
turn a  readjustment  of  ideas  might  bring  him 
light.  But  at  this  point  he  was  never  able  to 
decide  whether  he  most  needed  to  plunge  into 
the  diverting  excitement  of  a  crowd  or  to  with- 
draw to  the  cloister-like  repose  of  solitude.  He 
usually  ended  by  spending  a  nuiet  hour  with 
Janet  talking  over  matters. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  173 

In  the  light  of  her  clear  common  sense,  her 
hopeful  optimism,  and  especially  her  strong 
faith  in  Mac,  he  usually  found  refreshment  of 
spirit  as  well  as  new  courage  for  keeping  on 
with  the  good  work. 

His  natural  impulse  was  always  to  seek 
Louise,  about  whom  his  strongest  affections  cen- 
tered, but  a  twofold  consideration  kept  his  feet 
from  the  path  they  would  most  gladly  have  trod- 
den. First,  he  was  afraid  of  showing  his  real 
feelings  for  her,  and,  second,  he  could  not  speak 
of  Mac  to  her  as  freely  as  to  Miss  Janet. 

One  morning,  a  few  days  before  they  were  to 
start  to  New  York,  to  establish  themselves  on 
The  White  Cap,  Mr.  Standish  walked  across 
from  his  home  and  joined  Keith  and  Janet  on 
the  veranda  at  Little  Acorns. 

His  thin,  dark  face  was  troubled,  and  he  be- 
gan at  once,  after  the  greetings,  to  speak  of  that 
which  filled  his  heart. 

"I've  been  in  to  Standish  this  morning  to 
bring  Mac  home,"  he  said,  then  stopped  as 
though  unable  to  proceed. 

"Has  he  been  hurt  ?"  asked  Miss  Janet,  hur- 
riedly. 

"Ay ! — hurt  to  the  death,  I'm  thinking.  I'd 
almost  rather  have  had  him  lying  dead  beside 
me  than  in  the  state  he  was." 


174  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

A  great  lump  filled  Janet's  throat,  and  her 
heart  beat  furiously.  Keith  was  as  pale  as  she. 
Both  sat  waiting  impatiently  and  yet  with  dread 
for  what  should  come  next. 

"You  must  forgive  me,  Jeanie.  This  is  not 
fit  tidings  for  your  ears,  but  it  is  we  three  who 
love  him  best  who  must  try,  as  we  never  have 
tried  before,  to  save  our  dear  boy.  I  have  suf- 
fered agonies  this  morning  over  my  lukewarm- 
ness  in  the  past.  I  knew  he  was  going  wrong, 
and  I  have  talked  with  him  from  time  to  time, 
but  I  could  not  believe  in  his  danger.  I  trusted 
too  much  to  his  strong  Christian  character,  for- 
getting how  weak  we  are,  and  how  continually 
the  adversary  is  on  the  watch  to  catch  us  trip- 
ping. God  forgive  me  for  the  poor  way  I  have 
kept  the  trust  he  laid  on  me  when  he  gave  Mac 
into  my  care." 

He  bowed  his  head  on  his  hands  and  sighed 
deeply. 

"Andy  came  to  the  house,"  he  said  after  a 
little,  "at  daybreak,  and  told  me  that  Mac  had 
spent  the  night  carousing  with  the  younger  Her- 
mann crowd  in  Standish,  and  suggested  that  I 
had  better  go  for  him  with  some  of  our  own 
people  before  the  neighborhood  was  stirring.  He 
went  with  me.  "We  found  Mac  in  a  dead  sleep, 
and  brought  him  home  to  his  own  room  without 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  175 

the  knowledge  of  any  one  but  ourselves  and  our 
coachman  James.  He  has  not  waked  yet.  I 
have  never  dreamed  that  things  had  gone  so  far 
with  him,  and  must  still  think  this  is  the  first 
time  for  anything  so  serious." 

"How  did  Andy  know  ?"  asked  Keith,  after  a 
painful  silence  of  some  minutes. 

"Who  can  tell  ?  I  sometimes  believe  he  never 
lets  the  boy  out  of  his  sight.  And  now — oh! 
what  shall  we  do  ?  what  can  we  do  ?" 

As  if  in  answer  to  the  question,  a  step  was 
heard  coming  near  and  Andy  appeared.  All 
three  turned  towards  him  with  silent  appeal  in 
their  eyes.  Keith  held  out  a  hand,  which  Andy 
gripped  hard,  and  Janet  tried  to  smile,  but  no 
one  spoke. 

"Is  t'  lad  awake  yet?"  he  inquired  without 
preface. 

"He  was  not  ten  minutes  ago,"  replied  Mr. 
Standish. 

"Will  ye  tell  him  when  he  does  wake  oop  that 
I'm  waitin'  t'  carry  him  over  t'  mountain  t'  hunt 
oot  t'  vein  o'  marble  we  heard  was  opened  oop 
about  a  week  ago?  He'll  ken  the  one  I  mean, 
an'  he's  promised  t'  be  ready  when  I  call  him. 
Tell  him  I'll  be  at  t'  south  Quarry  road  by  t'  big 
chestnut  tree,  an'  I'll  wait  till  he  cooms." 

He  paused  a  moment,  during  which  his  look 
passed  slowly  from  one  sad  face  to  another. 


176  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Dinna  be  sae  cast  doon,  dear  friends,"  he 
said  then,  gently.  "Onr  dear  Lord's  wark  is 
not  tae  be  destroyed  by  one,  nor  yet  by  two,  nor 
even  by  mony  blows  o'  t'  devil's  fist.  Show  t' 
lad  that  ye  love  him  still,  and  try  to  trust  him 
all  ye  can.  'Twill  do  mair  glide  than  all  t'  re- 
proaches an'  palaverin's.  If  you  could  love  him 
enough  to  hide  awa'  your  sad  faces  an'  tae  mak' 
merry  wi'  him,  for  all  your  heavy  hearts,  'twill 
do  great  things  towards  winnin'  him  awa'  frae 
evil.  'Tis  nicht  an  easy  matter,  but  love  can  do 
mony  a  hard  thing,  ye  ken.  An'  may  th'  dear 
Lord  help  us  a'.  Gude-marnin'  to  you !" 

He  was  stepping  quietly  away  when  Mr. 
Standish  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  his  arm. 

"One  moment,  Andy,  if  you  please.  How 
shall  we  meet  the  boy  when  he  wakes  ?  He  will 
know  that  he  did  not  get  home  of  his  own  ac- 
cord, and  I'm  sure  he  will  be  overcome  with 
shame.  If  it  could  be  so  managed  that  he  need 
not  lose  all  his  self-respect,  would  it  not  be 
well?" 

"By  all  means,"  assented  Keith ;  and  then  the 
three  turned  to  Andy  as  to  one  who  could  best 
advise  them. 

"Plain  dealin'  an'  truth-tellin'  an'  a  square 
straightforard  road  takes  a  body  along  safest," 
he  said,  after  a  moment's  thought,  "but  a  bit  o' 


The  Sylvester  Quarry,  177 

godly  concealin'  o'  some  things  doos  nae  harm 
when  you're  fightin'  wi'  th'  devil.    Your  James 
is  a  sober,  discreet  mon,  an'  he  understand  how 
matters  hae  been  gangin'  wi'  Master  Mac.     I 
ken  him  weel,  an'  I  can  answer  for  him.     Let 
him  be  the  body  t'  first  see  th'  lad  the  marnin' 
an'  t'  tell  him  that  he  was  over  t'  Standish  las' 
nicht  an'  foun'  oot  how  things  stood,  an'  jest 
fetched  him  home  to  his  own  bed  before  th' 
crack  o'  day.     That's  ev'ry  word  th'  truth,  an' 
Master  Mac  need  nae  ken  that  it's  nicht  th' 
whole  truth.     An'  then  th'  whiles  he's  washed 
an'  had  a  gude  meal  an'  a  long  breath  o'  th' 
pure  mountain  air  wi'  me,  he'll  coom  back  an' 
can  meet  you  a'  wi'  his  ain  clear  eye  again, 
which  would  tak'  him  lang  tae  do  if  he  thocht 
ye'd  seen  his  shame  or  kenned  o'  it,  for  th'  lad's 
as  proud  in  spirit  as  t'  dear  Lord  can  mak'  a 
mon.     It's  jist  this  pride  o'  his  that's  goin'  tae 
be  th'  sorest  fightin'  ground  when  he  gits  through 
the  valley  o'  sin  he's  travellin'  over.     An'  now, 
sir,  would  ye  lak'  me  tae  speak  t'  word  to  James 
McGool?" 

"If  you  please,  Andy,"  said  Mr.  Standish, 
rising  and  stepping  towards  him  with  out- 
stretched hand.  "And  thank  you  from  a  full 
heart  for  all  your  wise  counsel." 


12 


178  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Andy  took  the  hand  in  hearty  clasp,  flushing 
with  embarrassment 

"Aye !— sir,"  he  said,  slowly,  "but  ye  ken  I 
love  t'  lad  mysel'." 

After  he  had  gone  another  silence  fell  upon 
the  little  group.  Janet  was  thinking  of  Andy's 
remark:  "If  ye  could  love  him  weel  enough  to 
hide  awa'  your  sad  faces  an'  mak'  merry  wi' 
him,  for  all  your  heavy  hearts,  'twill  do  great 
things  towards  winnin'  him  awa'  frae  evil." 

"How  can  I?  How  can  I?"  she  questioned 
with  despairing  eagerness.  "O  Mac!  my  beau- 
tiful, bright,  brave  boy !  I  cannot  believe  you 
have  gone  so  wrong.  I  will  not.  Mr.  Stand  ish 
and  Andy  are  just  as  likely  to  be  mistaken  as 
any  one  else." 

Quite  excited  with  this  new  thought  she  arose 
and  went  over  to  Keith. 

"I'm  going  to  see  Mac  myself,  Keith,"  she 
announced  with  decision.  "There  may  be  some 
mistake.  I  cannot  condemn  him  in  this  whole- 
sale way  unheard.  He  shall  have  a  chance  to 
speak  for  himself.  That  is  only  fair." 

"Oh !  I  beg  you,  Janet,"  spoke  up  Mr.  Stand- 
ish,  on  his  feet  in  a  moment,  "do  not  think  of 
going  over.  You  CQuld  not  see  him  in  his  pres- 
ent— as  he  is,"  he  went  on,  stumbling  over  his 
words  in  confusion  and  distress.  "I  assure  you 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  179 

it  will  be  far  better  to  follow  Andy's  suggestion. 
When  he  returns  from  the  ride,  if  you  like,  I'll 
send  him  over  to  you.  But  do  not  go  now." 

"Mr.  Standish  is  undoubtedly  right,  Jeanie," 
remarked  Keith,  taking  her  cold  hand  and  lead- 
ing her  back  to  her  chair.  "Fresh  air  and  Andy's 
tactful  comradeship  will  do  more  for  Mac  now 
than  even  you,  with  all  your  loving  zeal." 

"Very  well,  Keith,"  she  made  answer,  her 
lips  quivering.  "I  love  him  enough  to  wait." 

Mr.  Standish  took  his  leave  soon  after,  and 
Keith  withdrew  into  his  study,  but  not  before 
he  had  spoken  a  few  helpful,  comforting  words 
to  Janet. 

She  was  quite  alone  with  her  thoughts  now  on 
the  quiet  veranda.  These  were  all  of  Mac.  The 
garden,  into  whose  beautiful  extent  of  shade  and 
blossom  she  could  look,  had  been  the  scene  of 
many  a  happy  hour  with  him.  The  house 
scarcely  less  than  the  garden  had  been  witness 
of  countless  confidences  when  all  the  hopes  and 
aspirations  of  his  boyish  heart,  and  later  the 
dreams  of  early  manhood,  had  been  to  her  as 
an  open  book.  Could  it  be  possible,  she  asked 
herself  for  the  thousandth  time,  that  the  friend 
of  a  few  weeks,  beautiful  and  charming  though 
she  be,  could  have  so  soon  taken  her  place  in  his 
affections  ?  A  long  time  she  lay  there  in  her 


180  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

low  wicker  chair,  retracing  step  by  step  her 
whole  acquaintance  with  MacDonald.  In  her 
abstraction  she  did  not  hear  a  soft  pattering 
footstep  nor  see  a  loving  little  face  gazing  with 
grave  concern  at  her  closed  eyes.  But  she  felt 
a  small  hand  on  her  cheek  and  heard  a  gentle 
voice  saying,  "Is  you  sick  this  day,  Auntie 
Jean?" 

"Ah  Hilda!"  cried  Janet,  clasping  the  little 
one  in  her  arms  and  pressing  her  hot  cheek 
against  the  fluffy  curls. 

Had  Mac  forgotten  also  his  dear  "name 
lady''  ?  Back  through  memory's  pathway  came 
his  words,  "I  should  be  so  ashamed  to  get  into 
one  of  my  tempers  before  her." 

Would  he  now  be  ashamed  to  come  before  her 
with  the  stain  of  wrong-doing  on  his  heart,  the 
smell  of  liquor  on  his  breath  ? 

A  swift,  silent  prayer  went  up  to  heaven  as 
the  wondering  Hilda  was  still  encircled  in 
Janet's  arms. 

"Dear  Father,  if  I  have  failed  to  hold  him, 
grant  that  this  little  child  may  lead  him  back  to 
thee." 

"I  can't  breeve  very  well,  Auntie  Jean,"  spoke 
up  a  smothered  voice;  "I  fink  I'll  get  down,  if 
you  please." 

"You  poor  darling!"  cried  Janet,  in  contri- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  181 

tion.  "Was  Auntie  hugging  you  to  death  like  a 
great,  big  bear  ?" 

"No,  not  like  a  great,  big  bear,"  was  Hilda's 
slow  rejoinder,  "but  only  like  a  middle-sized 
bear,  I  fink.  Oh!  there  conies  Mac,  my  dear 
own  Mac.  Let  me  run  to  meet  him,  Auntie 
Jean." 

She  slipped  down  and  ran  off  and  away  in  a 
twinkling.  Janet's  heart  stood  still.  Here  he 
was  coming  to  her,  and  here  was  her  test. 

"If  you  could  love  him  enough  to  hide  awa' 
your  sad  faces  an'  tae  mak'  merry  wi'  him  for 
all  your  sad  hearts." 

"Oh !  I  cannot,"  she  murmured,  dropping  her 
face  in  her  hands.  "Dear  Father,  help  me. 
Give  me  of  thine  own  spirit.  Take  away  my 
weakness  and  fill  me  with  thy  strength." 

Mac  had  taken  Hilda  in  his  arms,  and  for 
the  second  time  that  morning  the  wee  damsel 
was  clasped  in  a  close  wordless  embrace,  quite 
perplexing  to  her  small  brain.  But  her  wonder- 
ment was  quickly  turned  into  a  new  chan- 
nel. 

"What  makes  your  face  all  wet,  Mac  ?  I  dess 
you  didn't  wipe  it  dry.  Here  is  my  hankfiss. 
I'll  wipe  it  for  you." 

The  tiny  square  of  linen  was  whisked  rapidly 
about  to  her  entire  satisfaction. 


182  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Good-morning,  Mac!"  he  heard  Janet  say- 
ing, brightly.  She  was  standing  at  the  side  of 
the  veranda,  twining  up  some  refractory  honey- 
suckle branches.  "I  have  been  expecting  you 
over  to  finish  the  translation  of  those  poems  of 
Heine's  with  me." 

He  had  come  quite  near  by  this  time. 

"I  haven't  come  for  that  this  time,  Auntie 
Jean,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone.  "Could  I  see  you 
for  a  little  while  alone,  please  ?" 

"Why,  certainly,"  she  said  cordially.  Her 
head  was  bent  as  she  cut  a  stubborn  stem,  so  she 
did  not  look  up  at  him.  "Hilda,  darling,  run 
away  to  Cousin  Violet  now,  Auntie  and  Cousin 
Mac  are  going  to  be  busy." 

With  a  good-bye  kiss  on  Mac's  mustache,  the 
obedient  little  girl  departed,  and  Janet  led  the 
way  to  her  own  special  sitting-room,  where  she 
was  never  disturbed.  As  she  closed  the  door  be- 
hind Mac  she  turned  the  key  noiselessly,  for  she 
felt  a  sure  instinct  as  to  the  nature  of  his  errand. 
Then  she  turned  towards  him  squarely  for  the 
first  time.  One  glimpse  of  the  haggard  face, 
the  heavy  sad  eyes,  the  trembling  lips,  drove 
from  her  thoughts  all  Andy's  advice,  all  her  own 
resolves. 

She  stretched  out  her  arms  in  a  very  passion 
of  love  and  pity. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  183 

"Oh!  my  poor  boy,"  she  cried  through  her 
tears.  "Come  here." 

Just  how  Mac  never  knew,  but  he  felt  him- 
self drawn  down  beside  her  on  the  lounge,  while 
soft  hands  pushed  the  hair  back  from  his  hot 
face,  arid  gentle  kisses  were  laid  on  his  burning 
eyes,  and  words  of  endearment  and  compassion 
were  murmured  in  his  ear. 

And  then,  a  little  later,  the  whole  shameful 
confession  was  made,  from  the  very  beginning 
of  the  divergence  of  the  two  paths,  where  the 
difference  of  direction  was  so  slight  as  to  be  un- 
noticeable,  to  the  wretched  ending  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  sin. 

Janet's  tears  were  flowing  as  freely  as  his 
long  before  he  had  finished. 

"If  you  could  only  know  how  I  hate  and 
loathe  myself,  Auntie  Jean.  I  don't  deserve 
that  you  should  feel  so  sorry  for  me.  I'm  every 
bit  to  blame  for  it  all." 

"Oh !  no,  Mac,"  remonstrated  Janet,  in  quick 
defense  of  him,  "I  cannot  let  you  say  that.  You 
have  been  deliberately  led  away  by  an  enemy  of 
our  dear  Master,  and  she — 

A  finger  was  laid  upon  her  lips. 

"But  a  true  soldier  has  no  business  to  be  led 
away  by  the  enemy.  I  am  a  traitor,  Auntie 
Jean,  and  my  punishment,  bitter  as  it  is,  is  no 
more  than  I  merit." 


184  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

He  was  walking  up  and  down  the  length  of 
the  room  now,  too  full  of  nervous  excitement  to 
sit  still. 

"It  is  the  little  beginnings  that  count  the 
most,"  he  continued.  "When  Mrs.  Vandyne 
asked  me  to  drive  with  her  into  Standish  yester- 
day, I  had  no  idea  of  even  seeing  the  Hermanns, 
much  less  going  to  their  house.  But  she  had  an 
errand,  then  wine  was  passed.  We  were  asked 
to  join  in  a  game  of  billiards.  Later  cards  were 
brought  out;  then  more  liquor,  and  when  the 
time  came  for  us  to  leave,  I  heard  Fred  Her- 
mann say  to  her  that  I  was  not  fit  to  drive  her 
home.  I  remember  trying  to  collar  him,  and 
then  all  was  a  blank  until  I  awoke  in  my  own 
bed." 

Janet,  standing  by  the  window,  listened  sor- 
rowfully to  this  simply  spoken  recital  with  so 
much  more  between  the  lines  than  she  could 
read.  Her  loving  heart,  jealous  for  the  honor 
of  her  boy,  swelled  higher  and  higher  with 
righteous  indignation. 

"Mac,"  she  burst  out,  "it  was  a  plot.  The 
wine  was  drugged,  I  know  it." 

The  faint  glimmer  of  a  smile  lighted  the 
heaviness  of  his  eyes  at  her  impetuous  certainty 
of  statement. 

"But  what  business  had  I  to  be  taking  wine  at 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  185 

all,  or  to  bo  in  intimate  companionship  with 
those  who  are  given  to  such  things  ?  No,  Auntie 
Jean,  there  can  be  no  excuse  for  me.  Don't  try 
to  make  any.  From  first  to  last  I  am  wrong, 
wholly,  utterly.  There  is  nothing  left  for  me 
but  to  begin  again,  far  down.  I've  just  had  it 
out  with  MacDonald  Caldwell  in  a  way  he'll  not 
soon  forget,  Xow,  when  I've  seen  Uncle  Mark 
and  Mr.  Keith,  I'm  going  over  the  mountain 
with  Andy.  He  and  James,  good  soul,  tried  to 
fix  this  thing  all  up  so  no  one  else  need  know 
how  low  I  have  fallen.  But  I  could  not  live  so. 
You  must  all  three  know  me  just  as  I  am,  and 
try  to  forgive  me  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"O  Mac !"  cried  Janet,  coming  close  and  lay- 
ing her  cheek  against  his  shoulder,  "don't  say 
such  a  thing.  We  forgave  you  before  you  ever 
did  wrong,  don't  you  know  that  ?" 

"I  know  that  the  thought  of  your  love  and 
patience  was  the  thing  which  gave  me  the  most 
courage  to  begin  living  again,"  was  his  low  an- 
swer as  he  put  his  arm  about  her  with  lover-like 
tenderness.  "I  felt  sure  of  you  and  Louise." 

How  Janet's  heart  thrilled  with  joy  on  hear- 
ing this. 

"Little  as  I  deserve  it,  I  know  you  have  al- 
ways had,  and  always  will  have,  a  warm  place 
for  your  wayward  boy." 


186  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Why,  of  course,  dear,  and  so  will  Louise, 
Mac.  She  is  as  loyal  and  staunch  a  friend  as 
you  could  ask  for." 

"Yes— but  I  could  not  talk  to  her  of  this, 
Auntie  Jean,  as  I  can  to  you.  I'd  rather — so 
much  rather — that  she,"  he  hesitated  a  second, 
"and — and  Violet — do  not — know — of — it." 

"Why,  surely  not.  There  is  no  need,  and  I 
will  try  to  see  that  there  is  no  possibility  of  its 
coming  to  their  knowledge.  But  they  will  be 
happy,  indeed,  as  we  all  are,  to  have  our  boy 
back  with  us  once  more,  his  own  bright,  light- 
hearted  self." 

Mac  looked  down  into  her  beaming  face.  He 
shook  his  head. 

"The  boy  hafe  gone  forever,  Auntie  Jean. 
The  man  makes  no  promises.  He  has  had  his 
lesson ;  he  knows  his  weakness ;  he  has  turned 
his  face  away  from  the  wrong  and  towards  the 
right.  The  rest  is  as  God  wills." 

As  Janet  heard  the  sadly-spoken  words,  her 
eyes  resting  on  the  familiar  yet  somehow 
strangely  unfamiliar  features,  she,  too,  saw,  as 
Louise  and  Violet  had  done,  that  the  old  be- 
loved Mac  was,  indeed,  lost  in  the  man,  whose 
youthful  innocence  had  been  defaced  by  sin, 
and  whose  strength  was  now  girded  up  for  battle 
against  temptation. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  187 

"God  help  you,  dear,"  was  all  she  said. 

Andy  arrived  at  the  big  chestnut  tree  by  mid- 
forenoon,  and,  after  hitching  his  horse  to  the 
fence,  sat  down  in  the  shade  to  await  Mac's  com- 
ing. His  fingers  busied  themselves  whittling  out 
a  group  of  wooden  soldiers  for  the  particular 
small  boy  of  his  acquaintance  just  then  most  in 
need  of  consolation ;  his  thoughts  were  with  Mac- 
Doiiald. 

He  had  just  placed  the  sixth  stiff  musketeer 
by  the  side  of  his  comrades  on  a  large  flat  stone 
when  a  mellow  voice  called  out,  "An'  it's  to  play 
soldiers  ye've  took  a  day  off,  Andy  Graham,  to 
be  sure!" 

"Haul  oot  your  knife  an'  carve  me  a  cannon 
for  th'  bit  boy  Jamie  Cairns,  Jim  Maloney," 
said  Andy,  by  way  of  reply,  handing  the  new- 
comer a  smooth  piece  of  pine. 

"Faith !  an'  I  b'lieve  ye'd  give  the  devil  him- 
self something  to  do  if  he  happened  along  your 
way,"  was  Jim's  good-natured  response,  as  he 
seated  himself  on  a  grassy  knoll  quite  near  and 
produced  his  jack  knife  in  prompt  obedience. 
"You're  a  master  hand  at  gettin'  a  man's  best 
out  o'  him,  Andy  Gra'm." 

"If  th'  devil  was  as  quick  to  do  my  biddin'  as 
you  are,  Jim,  I'd  like  th'  chance  o'  bein'  his 
boss  once,"  said  Andy,  bringing  a  critical  squint 


188  The  Syluester  Quarry. 

to  bear  on  the  soldier's  left  leg  and  smiling 
slightly. 

"I  reckon  ye'd  set  him  to  hustlin'  out  o'  the 
Quarry  village  mighty  spry  for  one  thing,"  Jim 
remarked,  his  eyes  bent  on  his  work.  "An'  that's 
a  job  I'd  like  to  have  a  hand  or  two  in  myself." 

Andy  gave  a  quick  upward  glance  of  surprise, 
sacrificing  the  foot  of  the  military  man  at  the 
same  time.  Could  he  have  heard  aright?  Jim 
Maloney,  the  leader  of  the  liquor  faction  ?  If 
Jim  felt  the  searching  scrutiny  of  the  keen  grey 
eyes  fixed  on  him  with  incredulous  amazement, 
he  gave  no  sign.  The  whittlings  flew  vigorously 
in  every  direction.  Over-head  a  clear  sweet 
bird-call  pierced  the  air;  about  them  blew  a 
fresh,  spicy  breeze  laden  with  the  smell  of 
apples. 

"That  means  a  great  deal  comin'  frae  you, 
Jim,"  Andy  said,  quietly. 

"You've  good  reason  to  doubt  the  hearin'  of 
your  ears,  Andy,  but  it's  the  truth.  From  the 
hour  when  ye  telled  me  that  the  fever  had  left 
me  little  Nora  I've  not  tasted  liquor,  an',  please 
God,  not  another  drop  o'  strong  drink  will  pass 
Jim  Maloney's  lips  agen.  I  promised  him  so 
that  very  mornin'  behind  a  big  stone,  an'  I've 
talked  with  him  every  day  since.  I  reckon  it 
sounds  to  him  like  my  little  gal's  babblin's  did 
to  me  when  she  were  a  toddler,  but  I  knew  what 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  189 

she  meant,  an'  so  does  he.  An'  I've  ben  a- 
thinkin'  that  ef  ther  wan't  no  whiskey  an'  gin 
an'  the  like  to  be  had  in  the  village,  that  ther 
wouldn't  be  so  many  pore  fools  a  lyin'  around 
an'  drinkin'  the  food  an'  clo'es  away  from  their 
babies.  An'  I've  been  talkin'  to  some  o'  the 
boys,  Andy,  an'  we'd  take  it  mighty  kind  ef  you 
could  come  up  to  the  woods,  above  the  Quarry, 
to-night  after  supper  an'  give  us  a  word.  There's 
hardly  a  man  o'  us,  drinker  or  no,  but  what'll 
listen  respectful  an'  be  glad  ter  do  it.  Tom 
Dillon  an.'  Leo  Sanzio  says  they'll  be  there  an' 
won't  make  no  trouble." 

As  he  spoke,  in  a  quiet,  almost  shame-faced 
way,  a  strange  thing  was  happening  to  Andy. 
For  almost  the  first  time  in  his  life  a*  big  lump 
rose  up  in  his  throat  and  a  mist  dimmed  his 
eyes.  Without  replying  to  Jim,  he  spoke  aloud 
the  thought  of  his  heart:  "Forgive  me,  dear 
Master,  for  ever  bavin'  a  single  doubt  o'  thy 
power  to  do  thine  own  wark  here  in  thine  own 
gude  time.  We  thank  thee  wi'  all  our  hearts  for 
a'  thou  hast  gi'en  this  dear  brother  tae  do  for 
thee.  Mak'  him  a  tower  o'  strength  to  us  a'. 
Gie  us  o'  thine  own  holy  Spirit,  that  we  may  a' 
be  wise  tae  do  thy  wark.  Bring  back  close  t' 
thy  lovin'  heart  all  who  hae  wandered  for  even 
a  little  time" — here  his  voice  trembled — "an' 
keep  us  a'.  Amen." 


190  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Mac,  hurrying  with  light  steps  through  the 
woods  behind  them,  came  near  in  time  to  hear 
this  earnest  prayer,  only  one  petition  of  which 
was  clearly  understood.  lie  know  Jim  well  as 
one  of  the  hard-drinking  men  of  the  newer  set 
up  at  the. Quarry  village,  and  was  at  a  loss  to 
comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  scene  he  had 
just  witnessed.  lie  hesitated  as  to  what  was 
best  to  do,  but  finally  stepped  out  into  the  road. 

"Gude-marnin',  Master  Mac!"  said  Andy  at 
once,  in  hearty  greeting;  "I'm  a'  ready  for  ye, 
ye  see.  I've  been  made  michty  glad  by  Jim 
hero  tellin'  me  that  frae  this  on  he's  goin'  tae 
wark  wi'  us  against  this  devil's  own  business  o' 
puttin'  liquor  into  th'  Sylvester  store.  Isn't 
that  th'  best  thing  ye've  heard  this  mony  a  day  ?" 

At  the  little  pronoun  "us"  on  Andy's  lips, 
Mac's  remorseful  heart  gave  a  quick  throb  of 
gratitude  that  he  should  so  quickly  and  openly 
be  reinstated  in  his  old  place  on  the  right  side 
of  the  question ;  but  Jim's  look  of  surprise  told 
of  his  perplexity.  Mac  Caldwell  had  not  of  late 
been  recognized  as  of  that  way  of  thinking. 
Andy  saw  his  bewilderment. 

"Yes,  Jim,"  he  said,  his  rugged  face  aglow. 
"Master  Mac  is  wi'  us  now.  An'  I'll  be  oop 
tae  t'  woods  by  sundown,  an'  glad  an'  proud  tae 
speak  wi'  th'  boys." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DOWN  TITE  MOUNTAIN  SIDE. 

t  M  HE  wind  blew  freshly  in  their  faces  as 
-l_  Andy  drove  off  along  the  shady  mountain 
road.  A  pleasant  odor  of  pine  greeted  their 
nostrils;  they  heard  the  chatter  of  squirrels, 
seeing  now  and  then  the  swift  dart  of  some  busy 
tail  or  the  glitter  of  a  keen,  alert  eye.  Already 
a  few  trees  were  fluttering  gay  pennons  of  scar- 
let, and  crimson.  Tall  stalks  of  goldenrod  swayed 
gracefully  like  flaming  torches  against  the  som- 
bre background  made  by  hemlock  boughs,  and 
everywhere  tokens  of  coming  autumn  strewed 
the  pathway  of  late  summer. 

"How  did  you  know,  Andy  ?"  Mac  asked, 
after  some  minutes  of  silent  passage  through 
the  peace  and  beauty  of  the  place. 

"Would  you  hae  coom  to  me  at  a'  an'  your 
heart  had  nae  longed  for  its  ain  once  more  ?" 

"N-n-o,  I  suppose  not,"  came  Mac's  slow  re- 
sponse. 

"No,  o'  course  you  would  na'.  By  that  token 
I  kenned  the  minute  I  heard  your  foot  coomin' 
through  th'  wood.  An'  thin  I  saw  th'  licht  i' 
your  eye." 


192  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"There's  little  enough  light  in  my  heart, 
Andy,"  said  Mae,  sadly.  "What  a  horrible  mess 
I've  made  of  myself." 

"You've  made  nae  mair  o'  a  mess  than  men 
mostly  do  when  they  try  tae  manage  wi'out 
seekin'  th'  help  an'  th'  lead  in'  o'  ther  Fayther  i' 
heaven.  Some  o'  them  mak's  oot  tae  hide  it  frae 
th'  warld  an'  pass  for  fairly  respectable  an'  pros- 
perm'  folk,  but,  puir  souls,  they  ken  weel  enough 
i'  their  meeserable  hearts  how  lackin'  they  are 
in  th'  true  riches ;  other  men  put  th'  warst  foot 
oot  an'  lie  down  i'  th'  gutter  for  every  child  tae 
cast  a  stone  at;  mony  grow  tae  be  misers  wi' 
their  siller,  or  scorchin'  wi'  their  tongues  oot  o' 
black  hearts,  or  burstin'  wi'  ungodly  pride,  or 
sleek  as  cats  wi'  smooth  speakin',  deceivin'  mony 
a  simple,  trustin'  body;  in  one  way  or  anither 
every  mon  that  forgets  his  Maker  makes  a  'hor- 
rible moss'  o'  his  life.  We  are  nae  strong,  nor 
far-sichted  enough  tae  tak'  things  i'  our  own 
hands.  Some  men  live  nearly  a'  their  lives  Ling 
wi'out  larnin'  that,  but  every  man  has  it  tae 
larn  sooner  or  later.  Thank  the  dear  Lord  a' 
your  days,  Master  Mac,  that  your  schoolin'  has 
been  sae  short," 

"Short  as  it  may  have  been  in  point  of  time, 
it  seems  to  me  that  it  will  take  longer  than  I 
have  to  live  to  make  up  for  what  I  have  lost." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  193 

"How  many  years  o'  life  do  you  reckon  you 
would  need  ?"  asked  Andy,  with  such  a  peculiar 
quiet  intonation  that  Mac  looked  quickly  around. 
He  flushed  a  little. 

"Oh !  why — of  course,  I  only  meant  to  make 
up  for  the  work — the — 

"An'  dinna  you  ken,  dear  Master  Mac,  that  a' 
eternity  would  nae  be  lang  enough  tae  mak'  oop 
for  a  single  duty  left  undone  ?  Th'  time  tae  do 
each  duty  cooms  but  once.  Th'  next  hour  has 
its  own  wark  inovin'  in  on  th'  stroke  o'  th'  clock. 
What's  left  undone  must  stay  undone  or  crowd 
some  ither  duty  cot." 

The  shadow  on  Mac's  face  grew  heavier,  and 
he  stirred  uneasily  a.s  if  to  shift  a  burden.  A 
long  sigh  escaped  him. 

"Haven't  you  one  comforting  word  for  me, 
Andy  ?"  he  begged.  "I  know  I  don't  deserve 
pity,  but  I  do  need  help." 

Andy  laid  his  hand  on  Mac's  with  quick,  close 
pressure. 

"Dinna  think  me  hard  an'  onfeelin',  dear 
laddie,"  he  said  as  tenderly  as  Janet  could  have 
done.  "Had  I  nicht  been  through  th'  whole 
sinfu'  thing  mysel' — only  a  thousand  times  mair 
than  you — I  should  nae  ken  so  weel  how  a'  th' 
bad  flesh  must  be  cut  awa'  by  th'  surgeon's  knife 
before  th'  healin'  oil  can  be  poured  in.  You 
13 


194  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

hae  been  down  i'  th'  depths  o'  th'  pit,  Master 
Mac,  an'  when  a  mon  does  that,  it  mak's  small 
matter  whether  he  stays  six  week  or  six  years, 
when  he  cooms  oot  he's  scarred  an'  stained  an' 
nae  fit  for  even  himsel'  tae  live  wi'.  Now  will 
he  be  wise  tae  sit  doon  in  a'  his  misery  an'  filthy 
rags  an'  think  o'  each  o'  his  evil  doin's  an'  wish 
he  hae  not  been  sic  a  fool  ? 

"Dinna  keep  i'  mind  a  single  hour  mair  th' 
deeds  that  fetched  you  tae  this  valley  o'  humil- 
ity, Master  Mac.  Dinna  look  at  your  puir  face 
an'  hands  an'  feet  a'  marred  wi'  th'  cuffs  o'  th' 
devil.  Tak'  a'  your  shame  an'  your  sorrow  an' 
your  repentin'  tae  th'  dear  Lord  an'  gie  them 
tae  him  tae  keep  for  you.  Then  raise  your  eyes 
tae  him,  an'  you'll  see  sae  much  love  an'  com- 
passion an'  askin'  for  your  service  there  that 
ye'll  forget  you've  ever  been  awa',  you'll  be  sae 
glad  tae  be  at  wark  for  him  again.  It  isn't  Mac- 
Donald  Caldwell  you're  tae  have  in  mind  frae 
this  on,  ye  ken,  but  your  dear  an'  loving  Master." 
"Yes,  Andy,  I  know — I  know  it — but — 
"Nae  don't  Peter  had  mony  a  sad  hour," 
Andy  continued,  as  though  Mac  had  not  spoken, 
"besides  th'  one  when  he  wept  those  scaldin' 
tears.  But  I  hae  a  notion  that  they  a'  came  i' 
th'  time  before  he  set  oot  on  his  grand  wark  o' 
preachin'  th'  gospel  o'  Christ.  A  bowl  can  be 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  195 

nae  mair  than  fu',  an'  I  ken  a'most  sure  that 
some  day  I'll  hear  Peter  sayin:  'You're  richt, 
Andy  Graham ;  never  for  a  single  minute  did  I 
think  o'  that  rascally  Peter  after  I  took  oop  th' 
dear  Master's  wark  o'  tellin'  th'  people  aboot 
him.'  So,  Mac,  dear  laddie,  fill  your  bowl  sae 
fu'  o'  th'  Lord  an'  his  wark  that  a'  these  black 
thoughts  will  jest  be  spilled  out  an'  never  coom 
back  nae  mair  tae  grieve  you." 

Mac  made  no  answer.  For  a  long  while  they 
drove  on  in  silence.  The  clear,  radiant  loveli- 
ness of  nature,  the  loving  sympathy  and  convinc- 
ing words  of  his  companion,  the  silent,  effective 
working  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  his  heart,  soothed 
the  unrest  of  Mac's  soul,  quieted  the  throbbing 
in  his  head,  eased  the  pain  of  an  oppressed  con- 
science. Moment  by  moment  he  grew  calmer, 
stronger,  more  resolute.  He  knew  that  Andy 
was  praying  for  him.  It  was  not  long  before  he 
began,  almost  unconsciously,  to  pray  for  him- 
self. He  was  the  first  to  break  the  long 
silence. 

"Thank  you,  Andy,"  he  said.  Then,  "Is 
there  anything  I  can  do  to  help  you  to-night  ?" 

The  reins  dropped  from  Andy's  hands,  and 
both  his  arms  came  around  Mac's  shoulders  in 
an  impulsive,  loving  embrace.  For  the  first 
time  he  showed  the  strong  emotion  he  had  so 


190  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

strenuously  repressed.     His  grey  eyes  sparkled 
with  joy  and  his  face  fairly  shone. 

"Thank  tli'  dear  Lord,  Mac,  my  own  laddie, 
that  he's  sae  quickly  brought  your  feet  oop  oot 
o'  th'  miry  clay  on  th'  rock  o'  his  love.  It's 
mony  a  lang  month  we've  a'  been  hungerin'  for 
such  words  as  these  frae  your  lips.  Blessed  be 
his  holy  name.  'Tis  th'  gladdest  day  for  me 
since  I  coom  tae  my  own  richt  mind. 

"Ay!  to  be  sure,  lad,  there's  work  in  plenty 
fur  your  dear  self.  It'll  no'  be  easy  at  th'  start, 
yet  ken,  but  there's  always  help  for  everybody 
that  knows  where  tae  look  for  it. 

"Ah  Mac!  my  lad,  you've  taken  a  load  this 
day  frae  th'  hearts  o'  mony  who  love  ye." 

Just  as  he  said  this  a  carriage  was  seen  ap- 
proaching. Its  occupants  were  Mrs.  \^andyne 
and  Fred  Hermann.  If  Andy  had  been  a  swear- 
ing man,  he  would  surely  have  let  fly  some  very 
emphatic  words ;  as  it  was,  he  set  his  teeth  hard 
and  did  some  very  emphatic  thinking,  at  the 
same  time  giving  the  lady  a  flashing  glance  from 
the  steady  grey  eyes  she  had  looked  into  twice 
before.  They  seemed  to  have  a  strong  fascina- 
tion for  her,  for  she  returned  his  gaze  with  a 
lingering,  curious  scrutiny,  as  though  he  were 
a  sort  of  man  new  to  her  experience,  as  indeed 
he  was.  She  scarcely  noticed  Mac's  crimson 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  197 

face  as  he  raised  his  hat  and  bowed  with  grave 
courtesy. 

"The  pretty  boy  is  doing  penance  for  his 
naughtiness  last  night,"  observed  Mr.  Hermann, 
lazily,  flecking  a  fly  from  the  cream-colored  mare 
he  was  driving. 

"Sans  cloutc.  What  immensely  fine  eyes  that 
Scotchman  has.  Tell  me  something  about  him, 
Fred." 

Mr.  Hermann  did  not  show  the  surprise  he 
felt  at  this  unexpected  question. 

"It  will  be  a  great  deal  more  to  the  purpose," 
he  said,  coolly,  "to  tell  you  that  your  fine-eyed 
Scotchman  and  all  the  rest  of  the  tribe  are  plan- 
ning to  carry  the  pretty  boy  off  out  of  your  de- 
praved clutches  for  a  month  or  so.  I  have  known 
of  this  for  some  time,  but  didn't  think  it  worth 
while  to  mention  it,  as  I  supposed  you  had  him 
too  well  in  hand  to  admit  of  even  a  temporary 
separation.  I  judge,  however,  by  what  we  have 
just  seen  that  some  more  effective  measures 
must  be  taken.  He  showed  an  ugly  bit  of  temper 
last  night,  and  more  of  the  spirit  of  old  Adam 
than  I  gave  him  credit  for.  It  won't  do  now  to 
let  him  indulge  in  a  fit  of  conscience,  as  he  is 
pretty  sure  to  do,  especially  if  he  is  carried  off 
on  a  yacht  for  a  month  with  the  parson  and  his 
crowd." 


198  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"A  yacht !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Van  dyne,  aroused 
at  last  to  some  show  of  interest,  "whose  yacht  ?" 

"lingo  Gregory's,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"Hugo  Gregory !"  cried  the  lady,  sitting  erect 
and  looking  around  in  surprise.  "Are  you 
sure  ?" 

"Perfectly  so.  Joe  Barnes'  brother  goes  as 
mate.  Hugo  has  loaned  The  White  Cap  to  the 
parson  from  the  fifteenth.  So  look  well  to  your 
laurels,  fair  maid,  or  all  your  plans  will  gang 
agloy.  Once  your  hold  is  gone  you'll  find  it 
hard  to  regain  it." 

"Are  you  trying  to  frighten  me,  or  what  ?" 
she  asked,  leaning  back  now  and  laughing  care- 
lessly. "Will  you  never  learn  that  I  do  not  fail 
in  what  I  undertake?  Now,  tell  me  about  the 
Scotchman." 

"If  my  pocket  were  not  so  deeply  interested 
in  this  Quarry  scheme,  I  would  make  it  my 
business  to  see  that  you  do  fail  in  at  least  this 
one  undertaking  of  sending  the  pretty  boy  to 
the  devil,  just  for  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  your 
proud  will  brought,  to  naught,"  was  the  quick, 
angry  retort,  uttered  with  low-toned  vehemence. 

Her  sleepy  dark  eyes  opened  very  wide  for  an 
instant,  then  she  smiled  indulgently  as  on  a 
petted  child. 

"No  crossness,  please,  nor  any  airs.    And  now 


The  Fyh-cster  Quarry.  199 

about  the  Scotchman  ?"  she  murmured,  her  voice 
smooth  as  velvet,  her  manner  serene. 

Another  wrathful  flash  from  her  companion's 
eyes  and  a  muttered  word  below  his  breath. 

"His  name  is  Andrew  Graham.  He's  fore- 
man under  Stockton,  a  man  as  sturdy  and  strong 
as  the  blocks  of  granite  themselves.  Not  so 
many  years  ago  he  was  a  drunkard  of  drunk- 
ards, but  he  took  a  sudden  turn,  and  now  he 
can't  be  tempted  or  bought.  I  know,  because 
I've  tried  him." 

"But  I  have  not,"  said  Mrs.  Vandyne.  "Thank 
you,  Fred.  That  was  a  very  long  communica- 
tion for  you,  and  you  shall  be  duly  rewarded." 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

A  LETTER. 

THE  next  ten  days  were  very  happy  ones 
for  MacDonald  and  all  his  friends  at  Lit- 
tle Acorns  and  Standish  Hall,  as  well  as  those 
at  the  Chapel  who  had  deplored  his  recent  lack 
of  interest  in  things  there.  He  was  again  the 
bright,  cheery  friend,  the  ready  helper,  the  af- 
fectionate comrade,  the  right-hand  man  of  Keith 
in  all  his  work.  Xo  allusion  was  made  by  any 
one  to  his  absences  or  his  lapses.  He  took  his 
old  place,  resuming  his  accustomed  duties  and 
pleasures  as  though  there  had  been  no  break. 

"Mac  seems  nicer  and  dearer  than  ever,  doesn't 
he,  Violet  ?"  Louise  said  one  morning  when  they 
were  packing  the  steamer  trunk  they  had  agreed 
to  share  during  the  "voyage." 

"I  did  not  suppose  you  would  think  that  pos- 
sible, Louise,"  was  the  reply,  accompanied  by  a 
roguish  glance. 

"Didn't  you  ?  Well,  people  are  surprised 
sometimes.  Let  me  fold  those  dresses  for  you, 
Violet.  Wasn't  Mac  just  fine  in  his  talk  at  the 
chapel  last  night  ?  I  never  felt  half  so  proud  of 
him  before.  I  think  there  are  very  few  who 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  201 

would  have  had  the  courage  to  allude  to  their 
shortcomings  in  so  simple  and  manly  a  way. 
That  has  always  been  one  lovely  thing  about 
Mac.  He  hasn't  the  least  bit  of  false  pride,  and 
is  always  so  ready  to  take  even  more  than  his 
share  of  the  blame.  For  my  part,  I  consider 
that  Mrs.  Vandyne  a  great  deal  more  to  blame 
than  he  is.  She  is  so  much  older  she  ought  to 
know  that  it  isn't  right  to  play  cards  and  drink 
wine  and  do  all  sorts  of  things  on  the  Sabbath 
day.  I  suppose  she  does  know  better,  but  she 
took  a  fancy  to  Mac  and  wanted  him  with  her. 
There !  we  have  everything  in,  haven't  we  ?" 

"I  think  so,"  Violet  responded  in  a  rather  ab- 
stracted way.  "Louise,  did  you  ever  think  that 
Cousin  Keith  was  in  love  with  Miss  Berdel  ?" 

Louise  bent  a  little  lower  over  the  trunk  at, 
which  she  was  still  kneeling.  She  did  not  reply 
at  once  to  this  very  sudden  change  of  subject. 

"No,  Violet,  I  never  have  thought  about  that 
at  all." 

"Well,  I  have.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  speak 
of  it,  even  to  you,  but  he  goes  there  very  often, 
and  is  always  so  tender  and  gentle  with  her.  It 
popped  into  my  head  the  last  time  I  saw  them 
together  what  a  sweet  wife  she  would  make  for 
him,  even  though  she  cannot  get  about  much. 
Don't  you  think  so,  Louise  ?" 


202  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Violet  had  unbound  her  long  golden  hair  for 
a  thorough  brushing,  and  her  face  was  half  hid- 
den behind  the  silky  veil,  so  she  did  not  see  the 
quickly-suppressed  quiver  of  Louise's  lips. 

"I  think  you  should  not  have  mentioned  this 
even  to  me,  Violet.  Your  first  impulse  was  the 
true  one.  It  is  not  for  us  to  be  surmising  about 
— about  Mr.  Keith's  wife." 

"  'Speak  for  yourself,  John,'  "  quoted  Violet, 
laughing.  "Cousin  Keith's  wife  is  a  person  of 
the  very  greatest  interest  to  me ;  and,  you  know, 
I  never  did  set  him  up  on  a  pinnacle  and  wor- 
ship his  as  you  do,  dearly  as  I  love  him.  So  I 
feel  perfectly  free  to  surmise  and  speculate  and 
wonder  and  wish,  and  do  everything  but  pry  as 
to  who  she  will  be.  Of  course,  I  want  her  to  be 
the  very  dearest  little  body  in  the  whole  world, 
and  Miss  Berdel  is  just  that  from  the  crown  of 
her  lovely  brown  hair  to  the  tip  of  her  poor 
lame  feet.  You  can  agree  to  that,  without  any 
scruples,  can't  you,  Miss  Prim  ?" 

Violet  kept  chattering  away  without  waiting 
for  an  answer,  her  thoughts  all  the  while  busy 
with  a  wonderful  new  idea  that  had  found  sud- 
den entrance  into  her  lively  brain.  What  was  it 
in  the  tone  of  Louise's  voice,  or  the  manner  of 
her  speech,  which  made  Violet  so  swiftly  and 
surely  certain  of  something  entirely  undreamed 


Sylvester  Quarry.  203 

of  until  that  moment  ?  She  could  not  tell.  With 
an  instinctive  delicacy,  which  respected  the 
secret  thus  unwittingly  revealed,  she  hurried 
away  from  the  dangerous,  but  fascinating  topic 
of  Keith's  wife.  The  thought,  however,  did  not 
leave  her,  nor  did  an  ardent  wish  for  a  beautiful, 
not  impossible  consummation.  Neither  did  this 
quite  new  and  unexpected  personality  of  Mr. 
Keith's  wife  depart  from  Louise,  There  was  a 
difference,  however,  for  in  her  heart  there  lodged 
beside  the  thought  a  pain. 

Preparations  for  the  sea  trip  went  rapidly  on 
until  one  crisp  morning  when  the  good-byes  were 
said  and  the  happy  party  set  off. 

It  was  but  little  after  sunrise  when  they  went 
aboard  The  White  Cap.  She  lay  dancing  on 
waves  ruffled  by  a  fresh  west  wind,  spick  and 
span  from  bow  to  stern.  The  spotless  crew  were 
in  readiness  for  the  start;  last  things  of  various 
sorts  were  being  put  away. 

Louise,  intent  on  the  proper  bestowal  of  a 
basket  of  fine  peaches,  was  the  first  of  the  passen- 
gers to  go  below.  Having  attended  to  her  er- 
rand, she  stepped  into  the  tiny  but  exceedingly 
attractive  saloon.  The  first  object  which  met  her 
eye  was  a  square  blue  envelope  lying  on  the 
table.  It  was  addressed  to  Mac. 

For  an  instant  Louise  stood  gazing  at  it  with 


204  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

a  sort  of  horror.  A  swift  presentiment  of  dis- 
aster came  upon  her.  She  recognized  the  grace- 
ful, flowing  hand.  How  many  times  other  sim- 
ilar letters  had  been  received  by  Mac !  How  in- 
stantly he  had  always  flown  to  do<  their  bidding ! 
But  to  think  that  now,  of  all  times,  this  messen- 
ger of  ill  should  overtake  them !  It,  somehow, 
did  not  occur  to  her  that  Mac  might  not,  in  the 
light  of  his  recent  resolves,  pay  the  same  heed 
to  Mrs.  Vandyne's  summons  which  he  hitherto 
had  done.  In  a  way  she  could  not  understand, 
nor  have  been  able  to  explain,  so  instinctive  was 
it,  she  felt  sure  that  the  arrival  of  the  innocent- 
looking  missive  boded  no  good  to  any  one.  Sup- 
pose she  was  to  slip  it  in  her  pocket  and  say 
nothing  ?  Or,  at  least,  to  say  nothing  until  they 
were  well  out  of  the  harbor  ?  Some  one  had 
evidently  been  negligent  in  its  delivery  to  Mac. 
A  little  longer  delav  would  do  no  harm,  and 
perhaps  much  good.  The  temptation  was  as 
strong  as  it  was  sudden.  Would  it  be  dishon- 
orable, she  queried,  to  do  a  little  wrong  thing 
that  great  good  might  come?  Would  Mac  not 
really  thank  her  for  keeping  a  possible  tempta- 
tion from  him  ?  Was  it  not  her  duty  to  do  this  ? 
These  and  other  similar  questions  flew  through 
her  excited  brain.  Some  decision  must  be 
quickly  reached.  Slowly  she  put  out  her  hand 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  205 

until  her  fingers  almost  reached  the  thin  blue 
square.  She  shrank  from  actually  touching  it, 
but,  with  a  final  plucking  up  of  nerve,  was  just 
about  to  do  so,  when,  with  a  gay  song  on  his  lips, 
Mac  came  running  down  the  stairs. 

"Oh !  here  you  are,  Louise.  Come  up  and 
see  the  start.  We're  just  off.  Why,  what  in 
the— oh !" 

His  questioning  glance  had  followed  hers  un- 
til it  rested  on  the  letter.  In  an  instant  he  had 
torn  it  open  and  devoured  its  contents.  Louise 
watched  his  changing  countenance  with  riveted 
gaze.  She  saw  surprise,  dismay,  irresolution, 
decision  following  each  other  swiftly  as  he  read 
the  lines : 

"DEAR  MAC  : 

"I  am  alone  here  and  in  serious  trouble.  It 
has  just  occurred  to  me  that  this  is  the  morning 
of  your  setting  off  on  the  yachting  trip,  and  I 
am  sending  this  to  The  White  Cap  by  special 
messenger  in  the  hope  of  catching  you.  For  I 
feel  s-ure  that  you  stand  ready  to  redeem  your 
oft-repeated  pledge  to  be  my  loyal  knight  and 
to  serve  me  when  need  should  come.  It  is  a 
shame  to  interfere  with  your  pleasure,  but  I 
shall  only  require  your  presence  for  an  hour  or 
two,  and,  surely,  your  friends  can  wait  for  you 


206  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

so  short  a  time  as  that,  or  you  can  overtake  them 
by  rail  at  some  convenient  port. 

"I  came  to  town  yesterday  to  attend  to  an  im- 
portant business  matter  which  cannot  be  post- 
poned after  to-day  without  large  loss  to  me.  Go- 
ing down  to  breakfast  this  morning  I  slipped  on 
the  marble  stairs  and  fell,  severely  spraining 
my  ankle.  The  pain  is  frightful,  and  I  am  flat 
on  my  back  for  no  one  knows  how  long.  Can 
you  imagine  anything  more  horrible?  I  have 
telegraphed  for  Marie.  Fred  is  on  his  way  to 
New  Orleans,  so  I  cannot  reach  him  in  time  for 
this  business,  and  must  beg  you  to  be  my  proxy 
and  to  help  me  in  this  dire  strait. 
"Ever  fondly  your  suffering 

"LUCILLE. 
"Hotel  Runnymede,  September  i^th." 

Having  finished,  he  turned,  without  a  word, 
and  dashed  up  the  stairway.  With  a  throbbing 
heart  Louise  followed  more  slowly  to  find  him 
the  centre  of  the  little  group.  He  was  speaking 
in  rapid,  excited  tones,  explaining  the  cause  for 
his  unexpected  leave-taking,  and  finally  reading 
the  letter  aloud. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "it  would  be  the  height 
of  unkindness  to  refuse  to  assist  her.  Even 
common  civility  would  demand  that  I  do  what 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  207 

I  can  for  her,  or  for  any  one  in  such  unforeseen 
helplessness.  Of  course,  I'm  awfully  sorry  to 
go  just  at  this  time,  but  I'll  meet  you  wherever 
you  say  to-night  or  to-morrow." 

~No  one  spoke.  He  glanced  quickly  around 
from  face  to  face  and  the  color  flashed  over  his 
own. 

"You  think  I  can't  be  trusted,"  he  exclaimed, 
with  the  first  note  of  bitterness  in  his  tones. 
"I'll  show  you  that  I  can  be.  Where  can  I  come 
aboard,  Mr.  Keith  ?" 

"Let  us  consult  the  captain,"  said  Keith.  So 
the  three  walked  off,  while  the  others  watched 
them  in  silence,  too  much  shocked  and  upset  by 
this  unlocked  for  turn  in  affairs  to  speak  of  it 
yet  even  to  each  other.  Presently  they  heard 
Mac  say,  "Well,  let  it  be  Norwalk  then,  at  ten 
o'clock  to-morrow.  You'll  hardly  miss  me  by 
then,  so  don't  look  so  sorrowful." 

He  hastily  packed  his  grip,  and,  bidding  each 
one  a  special  good-bye,  was  away  and  out  of 
sight  up  the  dock. 

Keith  gave  the  captain  a  signal  to  cast  off  the 
ropes.  Very  soon  after  The  White  Cap  began 
to  make  her  slow  way  out  into  the  harbor.  A 
clear  blue  sky  spread  itself  above  the  sparkling 
blue  waves  below  and  golden  sunshine  filled  the 
air  with  glory.  A  beautiful,  busy  scene  lay  be- 


208  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

fore  them ;  but  all,  except  Mark  and  Marcia, 
viewed  it  with  unseeing  eyes.  Disappointment, 
indignation,  doubts,  and,  most  of  all,  fear  for 
Mac,  filled  the  hearts  of  one  and  another  of  his 
friends. 

Louise  was  the  first  to  give  voice  to  her  dis- 
turbing thongths. 

"Shouldn't  yon  think,  Mr.  Keith,  that  when 
Mrs.  Vandyne  has  lived  all  her  life  in  New  York 
before  she  came  to  Standish,  she  could  have 
asked  some  other  friend  to  help  her  now?  She 
surely  must  have  many  in  the  city." 

"Suppose,  dear,"  said  Janet,  before  Keith 
could  answer,  "that  we  just  trust  Mac  now,  and 
don't  entertain  any  suspicions  nor  make  any  ef- 
fort to  explain  motives.  It  seems  to  me  that  this 
will  be  the  most  loyal  course  to  take.  Mac  has 
come  back  to  us  and  to  his  Master  with  every 
profession  of  penitence  and  sincerity.  Let  us 
believe  him  and  believe  in  him,  and  show  that 
we  do  so  by  being  as  happy  as  possible  during 
the  few  hours  of  this  absence  of  his  which  is  not 
of  his  seeking.  It  will  surely  not  make  him 
happy  to  know  that  we  sat  around  in  so  glum  a 
fashion  all  the  way  down  this  lovely  bay." 

These  sensible  words  effectually  dispelled  the 
heaviness  which  was  settling  over  them  all. 

"You  are  a  wise  woman,  Jeanie,"  said  Keith, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  209 

rising  and  laying  his  hand  for  a  moment  on  her 
shoulder.  "Come  now,  who  will  be  the  first  to 
sight  Miss  Liberty's  torch?" 

Ten  o'clock  the  next  day  found  them  at  Nor- 
walk,  but  no  Mac  met  them  there.  Noon  came 
and  passed,  the  afternoon  waned  slowly  on.  At 
sunset  came  a  telegram.  It  had  been  sent  from 
New  York,  but  gave  no  address. 

"Do  not  wait.  Must  take  Mrs.  Vandyne  home 
to-morrow.  Send  my  trunk  to  Standish. 


"Does  that  mean  that  he  will  not  join  us  at 
all  ?"  asked  Louise  in  dismay,  when  Keith  had 
read  the  message  to  them. 

"I  fear  so,"  was  his  grave  response. 

"I  believe  she  did  not  sprain  her  ankle  at 
all;  it's  just  a  trick  to  get  Mac  away  from  us. 
She  knows  she  can  wind  him  around  her  little 
finger,  and  she's  going  to  make  everything  worse 
than  it  was  before,"  cried  Louise,  with  an  out- 
burst of  her  old  passionate  anger,  such  as  no 
one  had  witnessed  for  a  long,  long  time.  "Let 
us  go  straight  back  to  New  York,  Mr.  Keith, 
and  take  him  away  from  her.  Oh  !  how  can  she 
be  so  wicked  ?" 

"How  can  Mac  care  to  go  near  her  again  I 
14 


210  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

should  like  to  ask  ?  I  should  suppose  he  would 
as  soon  walk  into  the  fire,"  said  outspoken  Mark. 
"But  if  he's  satisfied,  I  don't  see  why  you  need 
all  break  your  hearts.  He  isn't  worth  it.  I'm 
disgusted  with  him." 

"O  Mark !  don't  say  such  a  thing,"  reproved 
Marcia,  seeing  the  tears  spring  to  Louise's  eyes. 
"Of  course,  we  all  care  a  great  deal  for  Mac,  and 
can't  help  being  unhappy  when  he  does  wrong. 
And  it  is  a  shame  that  our  pleasant  trip  is  all 
spoiled." 

"Perhaps  it  isn't  spoiled,  Marcia,"  said  Janet. 
"I  think  it  would  be  a  good  plan  for  Keith  to 
write  Mac  a  letter  asking  if  he  cannot  join  us  at 
Saybrook.  Very  likely  he  can  when  Mrs.  \^an- 
dyne  is  once  at  home,  only  he  may  not  have  cared 
to  make  too  many  changes  in  our  plans.  What 
do  you  think,  Keith  ?" 

"It's  a  good  suggestion,  Jeanie.  I  will  write 
at  once,  and  then  we'll  set  sail  again." 

It  was  a  very  quiet  little  company  who  sat 
about  in  comfortable  wicker  chairs  under  the 
awning  on  The  White  Cap's  deck  that  after- 
noon. The  weather  was  fine,  so  the  yacht  made 
good  progress.  Mark  and  Marcia  played  game 
after  game  of  back-gammon,  while  Janet  and 
the  elder  Marcia  carried  on  a  low-toned  con- 
versation, turning  now  and  then  with  a  question 


The  tfi/lrcxlcr  Qnarri/.  211 

to  Keith,  who  sat  near,  an  open  book  on  his 
knee.  Louise  lay  in  a  steamer  chair  with  closed 
eyes.  Violet,,  lovely  in  a  sailor  snit  of  white, 
walked  slowly  np  and  down  the  length  of  the 
deck,  her  slender  figure  swaying  gracefully  to 
each  dip  of  the  boat,  her  eyes  gazing  far  otf 
across  the  water.  She  alone  had  made  no  com- 
ment on  Mac's  departure.  That  she  was  more 
than  usually  quiet  no  one  seemed  to  notice. 

"What  seest  thou,  Sister  Ann?"  asked  Mark 
as  one  of  her  turns  brought  her  quite  neai  him. 

"No  horseman  yet  in  sight.  Nothing  more 
helpful  than  a  flock  of  birds,"  she  answered, 
smiling  and  stopping  to  see  how  the  game  stood. 
"There,  Marcia,  your  last  man  is  off.  Come, 
Louise  dear,  wake  up  and  everybody  pull  their 
chairs  around  in  a  circle.  That's  right  now." 

No  one  knew  how  much  of  an  effort  it  was  for 
her  to  assume  this  mood  of  vivacious  gaiety. 
Violet's  sweet  unselfishness  of  disposition  was 
so  taken  for  granted  that  it  seldom  occurred  to 
any  one  that  it  might  not  always  be  spontaneous. 

She  had  her  reward  now  in  seeing  the  thoughts 
of  the  little  circle  diverted  for  a  time  at  least 
from  the  disquieting  events  of  the  day.  An 
hour  passed  quickly  playing  "Why  am  I  like?" 
this  or  that  visible  part  of  The  White  Cap, 
Twenty  Questions,  and  other  games  calling  for 


The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

nimble  wits  and  quick  repartee.  Then  came 
supper,  and  a  fine  sunset,  after  which  Keith  re- 
peated, in  the  starlit  twilight,  the  one  hundred 
and  third  psalm,  and  comforted  all  hearts  by  a 
short  talk  on  the  tender  mercies  and  loving  kind- 
ness of  their  heavenly  Father. 

Violet  was  the  last  to  close  her  eyes  when  they 
had  said  good-night  and  gone  to  their  tidy  state- 
rooms. She  pulled  down  the  blind  and  lay  a 
long  time  looking  out.  The  moon,  full  and  lus- 
trous, shone  down  on  the  smooth  water,  making 
a  broad  golden  pathway.  Many  thoughts  passed 
through  the  girl's  mind  in  the  stillness  of  the 
night,  which  was  broken  only  by  the  lapping  of 
the  water  against  The  White  Cap's  sides  and  by 
the  throb  of  its  engines. 

Gradually  the  unrest  faded  from  her  eyes,  the 
sad  curves  of  her  lips  relaxed,  a  sweet  peace  filled 
her  heart. 

"Dear  Father,  take  care  of  him,"  she  mur- 
mured as  she  fell  asleep. 

The  longed-for  letter  came  from  Mae  next 
day. 

"It  is  an  awful  shame,"  he  wrote,  "to  so  up- 
set you  all,  but  there  seems  no  way  for  me  to 
rejoin  you.  I  beg  that  you  wait  no  longer,  but 
go  on  and  have  just  the  good  time  you  planned- 
for. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  213 

"Mrs.  Vandyne's  ankle  is  much,  better.  It 
proved  to  be  not  so  serious  as  she  feared,  but 
she  is  very  unwell  and,  as  soon  as  she  can  be 
taken,  wishes  to  get  back  to  her  home.  Her 
cousin  is  in  the  South,  and  there  seems  to  be  no 
one  she  can  call  on  but  myself.  I  simply  cannot 
leave  her  alone  with  Marie,  who  is  an  excellent 
housemaid,  but  entirely  inexperienced  in  travel- 
ing. It  may  be  two  days  or  three  before  we  get 
away,  so  you  see  how  impracticable  it  will  be 
for  you  to  hang  around.  Don't  do  it.  Start  off 
on  your  cruise.  Make  the  most  of  this  fine 
weather. 

"Love  to  all,  MAC." 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Keith?"  asked 
Janet,  as  they  sat  alone  in  the  bow  of  The  White 
Cap  rereading  the  letter. 

"Trouble  ahead,"  was  his  concise  reply.  Then 
he  added :  "She  is  playing  a  deep  game,  Jeanie. 
She  means  to  get  complete  control  of  Mac,  work- 
ing on  his  inexperience,  his  chivalrous  devotion, 
his  open  admiration  and  fondness  for  her.  At 
first  I  thought  her  only  vain  and  pleasure-lov- 
ing, but  I  have  about  concluded  that  some  well- 
planned  scheme  underlies  all  her  manoeuvers, 
and  it  looks  as  though  it  were  connected  with 
the  Hermann  enterprise  at  the  Quarry  village. 


•214:  The  tiylccster  Quarry. 

She  knows  that  if  she  can  get  and  keep  Mac  in 
her  toils,  it  will  bo  small  use  for  us  to  oppose 
the  liquor  trade  in  Sylvester,  for  if  we  could  not 
keep  our  own  boy  from  falling,  how  could  we 
expect  to  influence  others  ?" 

"That  doesn't  seem  to  me  to  be  at  all  a  good 
argument,"  answered  Janet,  after  a  little 
thought.  ''If  our  own  boy  has  fallen,  we  have- 
so  much  the  more  reason  to  try  and  keep  other 
boys  from  harm's  reach." 

"Yes,  Jeanie,  so  say  I.  But  she  evidently 
would  not  look  at  the  matter  in  that  light.  At 
least,  so  it  begins  to  look  to  me.  I  know  some 
tiling  of  Mrs.  Vandyne  which  you  do  not,  and 
which  give  me  good  reason  for  believing  her  to 
be  thoroughly  unprincipled.  I  do  not  think  she 
will  hesitate  to  falsify  or  do  any  other  deliber- 
ately dishonest  thing,  if  need  be,  to  accomplish 
the  end  she  has  in  vie\v.  Tnlcss  1  am  greatly 
mistaken,  Mac  will  find  himself  more  pmverlc>s 
than  before  to  resist  her  influence.  He  has  been 
so  near  slipping  through  her  fingers  that  she  will 
now  leave  no  stone  unturned." 

Janet  looked  at  her  cousin  for  some  minutes 
in  a  sort  of  puzzled  wonder. 

"Keith,  I  cannot  understand  you.  Why  do 
you  always  use  this  tone  of  settled  hopelessness 
when  talking  of  Mac  ?  You  used  not  to  do  so 


The  ^ijh- ester  Quarry.  215 

when  any  one  needed  help.  You  were  so  full 
of  resources,  so  optimistic,  so  abounding  in  ex- 
pectation that  all  would  come  right,  that  only  to 
speak  with  you  about  any  trouble  took  half  the 
load  from  my  heart.  But  now  every  word  you 
say  sinks  it  down  heavier  and  heavier.  What 
has  changed  you  so?" 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  Jeanie.  I  feel  it 
myself.  I  sometimes  think  it  is  because  I  never 
before  have  had  such  a  grief  as  this,  and  because 
all  my  efforts — many  more  than  you  know  of — • 
and  my  most  earnest,  agonizing  prayers  in  Mac's 
In-half  have  all  been  unavailing.  Steadily,  from 
the  first,  he  has  been  slipping  from  my  hold  un- 
til, I  almost  fear,  the  fault  is  wholly  mine.  And 
yet  I  cannot  see  how  I  have  failed.  I  am  ready 
to  say,  with  David,  "All  rhy  waves  and  thy  bil- 
lows have  gone  over  me.'  ' 

"  'Why  art  thoii  east  down,  oh!  my  soul,  and 
why  art  thou  disquieted  in  me?  Hope  thou  in 
(Jnd,  for  I  shall  yet  praise  him  for  the  help  of 
his  countenance,'  "  quoted  Janet,  softly.  "Look 
on  the  other  side  of  the  picture,  Keith,  dear. 
Mac  has  too  much  good  sterling  sense,  aside 
from  his  Christian  character,  and  is  the  child  of 
too  many  prayers,  ever  to  make  shipwreck  of 
himself.  I  can  but  believe  this,  and  believe  it 
with  all  my  heart,  in  the  face  of  everything  he 


216  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

has  done.  He  may  make  mistakes;  who  of  us 
does  not  ?  and  his  just  now  are  particularly  griev- 
ous, but  he  is  coming  through  them  all  right." 

"You  and  Andy  would  almost  convince  one 
that  such  mistakes  make  a  man  stronger,"  said 
Keith,  smiling  a  little. 

"I'm  not  sure  but  they  do.  They  can  but 
make  one  humble,  and  humility  of  the  right  sort 
is  strength.  I  cannot  feel  but  that  Mac  will 
some  day  be  better  able  to  help  others  from  these 
mistakes  he  has  made.  At  the  same  time,  I 
don't  want  him  to  make  any  more." 

"A  true  womanly  speech,  Jeanie,"  remarked 
Keith,  smiling  broadly  this  time.  "Let  me  tell 
you  what  I  have  thought  of  doing.  I  believe  I 
shall  go  to  ISTew  York  at  once,  and  use  every  ef- 
fort to  buy  up  all  the  stock  in  the  Quarry  Com- 
pany not  already  owned  by  you  and  Mr.  Stand- 
ish.  You  know  I  have  quite  a  little  sum  from 
Hubert's  estate,  and,  if  necessary,  I  will  with- 
draw some  of  Violet's  investments  from  Eng- 
land and  put  them  in  here.  As  her  guardian  I 
have  a  perfect  right  to  do  this,  even  without  her 
consent,  which  I  am  sure  of.  I  am  determined 
to  get  the  Hermann  influence,  root  and  branch, 
out  of  Sylvester  to  begin  with. 

"Then  I  shall  see  Mrs.  Vandyne  and  Mac, 
if  they  are  still  at  the  Kunnymede,  and,  after  a 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  217 

talk  with  him,  offer  myself  as  her  escort  back 
to  Staiidish  and  send  him  to  meet  the  yacht  at 
Newport.  You  won't  mind  going  from  here 
there  with  Mark  and  Captain  Stevens  with 
you  3" 

"Oh !  by  no  means,"  declared  Janet,  her  face 
brightening.  "I  will  do  anything  to  help,  and 
I  am  so  glad  you  are  really  going  to  take  this 
strong  stand  at  the-  Quarry.  But  don't  use  Vio- 
let's money.  I  will  furnish  whatever  may  be 
needed." 

"That  can  be  arranged  later.  Now  let  us  con- 
sult the  time  tables,  for  I  will  take  the  first 
train." 

An  hour  later  saw  him  speeding  towards  the 
city  .and  The  White  Cap  making  her  graceful 
way  towards  Newport. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

GARET. 

WHAT  are  yon  going  to  do  to-day,  Aunt 
Diana  ?"  Berdel  Strong  inquired  the 
morning  after  their  neighbors  on  the  north  had 
bidden  them  good-bye.  She  had  been  feeling 
unusually  well  for  two  or  three  weeks.  Just 
now  she  and  Mrs.  Bolton  were  sitting  on  the 
shady  front  porch  and,  for  a  wonder  of  wonders, 
the  last-named  lady  was  idle, 

"I  dunno's  there  appears  to  be  any  special 
work  on  hand  jus'  now,  without  it's  beginnin' 
on  that  bed-quilt  I'm  goiri'  to  piece  up  this  fall, 
'n  somehow  I  don't  seem  to  feel  drove  to  that 
this  mornin'.  For  the  land's  sake !  Mary  Berdel, 
what's  that  com  in'  in  the  gate?" 

"That"  was  a  small  figure  toiling  along  under 
a  load  of  numerous  packages.  A  large  square 
hat-box,  a  good-sized  valise  and  a  two-quart  tin 
pail  were  carried  in  a  pair  of  slim  little  hands ; 
over  the  shoulders  was  slung  a  gay  bunch  of 
sunflowers ;  dangling  from  the  waist  a  silver  cup 
shone  brightly  in  the  sun ;  tied  to  one  ankle  by 
a  long  string  was  a  tiny  black-and-tan  puppy, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  219 

yelping  and  dancing  vigorously  on  coming  with 
unexpected  frequency  to  the  end  of  his  tether. 
A  big  hat  hung  limply  back  by  its  ribbons,  leav- 
ing exposed  to  the  burning  sunshine  an  eager 
little  brown  face,  whose  wistful  grey  eyes  were 
big  with  expectation  and  appeal. 

"Why,  it's  Garet  Vandyne!"  exclaimed  Ber- 
del.  "Good-morning,  dear!  Corne  up  and  sit 
here  and  get  cooled  off.  You  look  so  warm." 

"Oh !  I  don't  mind  being  warm,"  said  Garet, 
cheerfully,  standing  quite  still  at  the  end  of  the 
porch.  "I've  come  to  see  about  getting  board 
with  you,  His'  Dinah." 

She  turned  towards  Aunt  Diana  with  a  busi- 
ness-like air,  while  Berdel  coughed  behind  her 
handkerchief  and  listened  for  "Mis'  Dinah's" 
reply. 

But  Mrs.  Bolton  was  so  overcome  by  surprise 
and  wrath  that  she  couldn't  speak  a  word.  She 
only  stared  blankly  at  her  would-be  boarder. 

Keeeiving  no  answer,  Garet  continued,  in 
polite  tones :  "I  wish  to  engage  a  comf 'ble  room 
for  my  little  dog  and  myself  for  a  week  or  so. 
I  must  have  a  clean  bed,  and  I  hope  you  set  a 
good  table  and  are  particular  about — about 
things.  We  will  not  give  you  any  trouble,  and 
Darling's  been  washed  all  over  this  morning 
with  ker'sene  oil  and  carbolic  soap.  I  did  it  my- 


220  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

self,   so  I  know  he  hasn't  a  single  flea, 
Dinah." 

Mrs.  Bolton  fidgetted  about  in  as  nervous  a 
way  as  she  would  have  done  had  all  Darling's 
possible  fleas  been  hopping  around  on  her. 

Garet  waited  again,  but  the  silence  was  un- 
broken. A  bit  of  anxiety  crept  into  the  grey 
eyes. 

"I  can  pay  you  a  good  price,  only  there  must 
be  no  extras.  I've  the  money  right  here  in  my 
pocket,  a  half  dollar,  two  quarters  and  three 
nickels.  That'll  be  enough,  won't  it?  I  don't 
eat  much,  aaid  I  can  get  along  without  my  glass 
of  milk  when  I  go  to  bed  if  you  couldn't  afford 
to  give  me  that,  Mis'  Dinah." 

By  this  time  Aunt  Diana  had  found  her 
voice. 

"The  great  horn  spoon,  Mary  Berdel !"  she 
exclaimed.  "You  talk  to  her." 

"Come  here,  dear,"  said  Berdel,  gently.  Put 
all  these  heavy  tilings  on  the  porch;  take  off 
your  hat  and  sit  here  by  me." 

There  was  no  resisting  Berdel's  winning  in- 
vitation. Drawing  a  long  breath  of  mingled 
fatigue  and  relief,  Garet  set  down  the  valise 
and  pail,  also  the  hat-box.  But  before  she  be- 
gan to  untie  the  string  about  her  waist  she  cast 
3.  doubtful  glance  towards  Aunt  Diana, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  221 

big'  round  spectacles  were  turned  fixedly  in  her 
direction. 

''Perhaps  she  would  rather  not  have  me,"  she 
said,  softly. 

"Oh !  yon  can  settle  that  with  her  by  and  by. 
I'm  going  to  invite  yon  to  spend  the  day,  the 
whole  day,  until  bed-time  with  me,  as  my  own 
special  and  particular  guest.  Would  you  like 
that?" 

"And  Darling,  too?"  apprehensively. 

"Of  course,  Darling  too.  And  I  wonder  if  he 
wouldn't  like  to  have  a  drink  of  milk.  Suppose 
you  take  him  around  to  the  kitchen  and  ask  the 
cook  to  give  him  some.  Let  me  untie  his  string." 

Garet's  face  was  radiant. 

"I  except  your  kind  invitation  with  pleas- 
ure, Miss  Bird  L.,"  she  said,  in  her  most  digni- 
fied, company  way,  giving  Berdel's  name  her 
own  rendering.  Then  a  moment  later  her  natu- 
ral gratitude  and  delight  swept  away  conven- 
tionality. "Oh !  you  are  per'fly  lovely  to  ask 
me.  Do  you  care  if  I  give  you  one  little  hug? 
I'll  be  careful  not  to  muss  you." 

Berdel's  arms  were  wide  open  to  receive  the 
loving  little  creature  who  flew  to  them,  with  the 
bewildered  Darling  jerked  along  recklessly  be- 
hind, quite  forgotten  in  the  joy  of  the  moment. 
The  sight  of  her  "darling"  apparently  enveloped 


:^2  Tin-  Sylvester  Quarry. 

in  a  whirl  of  arms,  legs,  sunflowers  and  d<>gs 
effectually  aroused  Aunt  Diana  from  her  daze. 
She  sprang  up  and,  rushing  forward,  was  about 
to  seize  Garet  by  the  arm  with  energetic  grasp. 

"Here,  you — "  she  began,  but  Berdel's  hand, 
raised  in  warning,  stayed  her  protest,  and  she 
stood  looking  on  with  an  indescribable  mixture 
of  motions  while  the  "little  hug"  was  in  pro- 
gress. It  came  to  an  end  in  due  course  of  time, 
and  Garet  disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the 
house,  leading  Darling  to  his  delectation. 

"Whatever  in  the  country  shall  we  do  with 
them,  Mary  Berdel  ?"  asked  Aunt  Diana,  breath- 
lessly, as  soon  as  they  wore  fairly  out  of  sight, 

"Why,  I've  asked  Garet  to  spend  the  day 
with  me.  After  that  you  must  decide/'  replied 
Berdel,  demurely,  enjoying  Aunt  Di's  dismay 
and  trying  to  hide  the  mischief  in  her  eyes. 

"  '_\[ph !  What  do  yon  'spose  has  become  of 
the  Widder  Van?" 

"We'll  ask  Garet,"  said  Berdel. 

"She  don't  know  no  more  about  that  skittish 
mother  o'  hers  than  a  pigeon  dove  does  about 
the  swoopin's  of  a  turkey  buzzard,"  was  Aunt 
Di's  vigorous  comment. 

"Well,  we'll  see.    Here  she  comes." 

"I've  left  Darling  to  take  a  nap  in  a  box  by 
the  kitchen  door/'  announced  the  little  girl,  sit- 


The  Sylvester  Qinirry.  223 

ting  clown  near  Bcrdel.  "He  always  sleeps  a 
long  time  after  he  drinks  his  milk." 

"Is  he  your  doggie,  Garet  ?"  asked  Bcrdel. 

"Xo,  he  is  Mamma's.  I  don't,  care  for  him 
very  much,  because  he  won't  keep  still  in  my 
arms  when  I  want  to  hold  him  and  love  him. 
He's  too  wiggly  to  love  real  hard.  But  I  couldn't 
leave  him  behind,  because  our  cook  isn't  very 
kind  to  him.  And,  you  know,  a  merciful  man 
is  merciful  to  his  beast,"  she  said,  gravely. 

"Yes,  dear,"  repressing  a  smile.  "How  is 
your  Mamma  to-day,  Garet?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  'sactly,  because  she  went 
away  day  before  yesterday  to  Xew  York,  and 
yesterday  a  tel'gram  came  for  Marie.  She  left 
me  with  cook,  but  I — but.  I — I  don't — cook  is 
a  nice  lady  sometimes  ;  but  I  thought  it  would  be 
more  'visable  to  come  over  to  board  with  Mis' 
Dinah.  I  didn't  want  to  wait  long  enough  to 
write  and  make  'rangements,  as  Mamma  does, 
so  I  just  packed  up  a  few  little  things  and 
moved  over.  Do  you  ihink  she  will  take  us, 
Miss  Bird  L?" 

Another  furtive  look  across  the  porch  towards 
Aunt  Diana,  who,  seated  bolt  upright,  appeared 
to  be  hypnotized  by  the  new-comer. 

"I  am  sure  she  never  could  turn  away  two 
such  desirable  boarders  as  you  and  Darling," 


224  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

answered  Berdel,  smiling.  "She  has  the  kind- 
est heart  in  the  world." 

"Yes,  I  know  she  has,"  assented  Garet,  with 
such  nn affected  heartiness  as  to  surprise  both 
her  hearers.  "I've  always  wished  she  would  let 
me  love  her.  She  looks  just  like  a  gram'thur, 
don't  you  think  so,  with  her  spectacles  and  cute 
little  curls  each  side  of  her  face  and  her  nice 
wrinkly  checks.  I  think  gram'thurs  are  the 
beau'fullest  things,  but  I  never  saw  a  real  one, 
only  their  pictures,  and  I've  read  about  them." 

Aunt  Diana  took  off  her  spectacles  and  rubbed 
them  on  one  corner  of  her  apron.  She  sniffed 
violently. 

"Come  here,"  she  commandied,  looking  to- 
wards Garet,  who  walked  obediently  to  her 
side. 

"You've  called  me  a  darkey,  'n  I  never  'sposed 
I'd  be  fool  enough  to  stan'  that  from  any  livin' 
body,  but. — but — Berdel  Strong,  you  stop  laugh- 
in' — you  can  love  me  jest  as  hard  as  you  want 
to,  you  poor  little  forsaken  thing." 

This  time  Garet  received  rather  than  gave 
the  hugging,  a.nd  felt  a  dozen  warm  kisses  on 
her  cheeks,  while  Berdel  was  now  the  amazed 
and  amused  and  glad  looker-on. 

Dr.  Strong  opened  the  gate  and  walked  up 
the  pathway  in  the  midst  of  this  scene.  He 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  225 

lifted  his  brows  inquiringly  at  sight  of  the  bag- 
gage on  the  porch,  but  gave  a  long  whistle  when 
his  eyes  fell  upon  Garet  and  Aunt  Diana.  He 
turned  to  Berdel  for  explanation  and  detected 
the  tremulousness  of  her  smiling  lips. 

"What's  all  this?"  he  asked  softly,  sitting 
close  beside  her,  a  comical  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 
•k A  love  feast?" 

"That's  just  the  exact  word,  Jackadel.  A 
love  feast  in  the  best  sense.  That  poor  child 
has  been  left  alone  with  the  cook,  and  the  love- 
hungry  little  thing  decided  to  move  over  here 
and  board  with  Mis'  Dinah — that's  her  name 
for  Aunt  Di — just  think  of  it!  And  she  says 
Aunt  Di  makes  her  think  of  a  grandmother. 
Darling,  Mrs.  Vandyne's  dog,  has  come  too.  I 
judge  that  Garet  has  just  made  entire  conquest 
of  Aunt  Diana's  heart,  and  so  the  boarding 
question,  which  has  not  yet  been  settled,  will 
soon  adjust  itself.  Listen  !" 

"You  jest  come  up-stairs  with  me.  Never 
mind  about  the  things — I'll  have  Thomas  fetch 
them — and  I'll  show  you  your  room,"  Mrs. 
Bolton  was  saying.  "I  'spose,"  to  Berdel,  as 
she  rose  holding  Garet  by  the  hand,  "she  can 
have  the  east  room  for's  long's  she  wants  to 
stay?" 

"Why,  certainly,  Aunt  Di." 
15 


226  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"  'X,  John  B.,  as  long's  you're  here,  you 
might  as  well  fetch  her  things  up-stairs." 

"Oh!  please,  Mis'  Dinah,"  remonstrated 
Garet,  trying  to  disengage  her  hand,  "I  can 
take  them.  Let  me,  Dr.  Strong." 

But  a  resolute  hold  was  on  her  now,  and  she 
could  not  stir. 

"You  let  him  alone;  John  B.  needs  to  ex- 
ercise his  muscles  once  in  a  while,  'n  you've  car- 
ried those  great  things  fur  enough  in  the  hot 
sun  for  one  day." 

So  "John  B."  gathered  up  the  hat-box,  the 
valise  and  the  tin  pail,  and  trudged  meekly  up 
the  stairs  behind  "Mis'  Dinah"  and  her  new 
boarder. 

"l^ow,  the  next  thing  will  bo  to  unpack," 
said  Garet,  after  her  exclamations  of  delight 
over  the  pleasant  appearance  of  the  room.  "  'N 
then  I'll  go  down  to  stay  with  Miss  Bird  L.,  for, 
you.  know,  Mis'  Dinah,  I'm  her  comp'ny  to-day. 
But,  first,  if  you  please,  what  are  your  terms 
for  little  girls  and  dogs  ?" 

Garet's  funny  intermixture  of  remarks,  in 
exact  imitation  of  her  mother's  tones  and  words, 
were  particularly  upsetting  to  Aunt  Diana. 

"The  land !"  she  ejaculated,  sitting  down 
quite  suddenly.  Dr.  Strong,  whoi  had  been 
standing  near  unnoticed,  burst  into  a  hearty. 


The  Sylvester  (Jiun-ry.  227 

irrepressible   laugh.      At   this   Garet   bethought 
herself  of  her  manners. 

"Thank  yon,  Dr.   Strong,"  she  said  to  him, 
graciously.     "That  is  all  now."   Then  she  turned 
in  some  perplexity  to  Mrs.  Bolton. 
"I  did  not  quite  understand  yon,  Mis'  Dinah." 
"John  B.,  you  go  down  stairs,"  remarked  that 
lady,  with  considerable  asperity.     "What  be  you 
standin'  around  here  for  like  a  great  coot?" 

The  doctor,  somewhat  taken  aback  by  this 
pointed  question  for  which  he  had  no  very  good 
answer,  beat  a  hasty  retreat.  His  descent  of 
the  stairs  was  marked  by  a  series  of  explosions 
culminating  in  a  prolonged  shout  by  the  time 
he  had  rejoined  his  sister. 

"I'd  like  to  order  that  child  as  a  prescription 
for  about  half  my  patients,"  he  declared,  wiping 
his  eyes.  "But  I  think  Aunt  Di  would  have  to 
be  included.  The  combination  of  the  two  is 
certainly  irresistible." 

"The  poor  little  soul  is  starving  to  death  for 
affection,"  said  Berdel.  "Isn't  it  a  shame?" 

"She  is  a  sweet  little  thing.  Her  mother  does 
not  deserve  to  have  her."  The  doctor's  tone 
conveyed  much  more  than  his  words. 

"Oh!  don't  say  that,  Jackadel.  When  God 
sends  a  dear  child  to  any  one,  there  is  always  a 
good  reason  for  the  gift.  It  may  be-  that  Garet 


228  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

will  prove  the  greatest  of  blessings  to  her  frivol- 
ous mother.  She  has  great  latent  strength  of 
character,  I  feel  sure." 

"It  is  not  all  latent.  Do  you  see  how  partic- 
ular she  is  about  getting  the  matter  of  her  board 
settled  promptly  and  how  unselfish  she  is  about 
Darling  ?  By  the  way,  Berdel,  how  are  you 
going  to  stand  that  small  beast  ?  You  know,  his 
sort  is  generally  nine- tenths  yelp." 

"Oh !  I  think  I  can  keep  him  within  bounds. 
At  all  events,  he  cannot  be  sent  off.  I  want  this 
week  to  be  the  very  happiest  one  in  every  way  of 
Garet's  life.  I  wish  I  could  get  up-stairs  to  see 
what  she  is  doing  this  minute." 

"I'll  tip-toe  and  peek,"  volunteered  her 
brother. 

"You  !  O  Jackadel !  you  don't  know  how,  and 
you're  too  big,"  answered  Berdel,  highly 
amused. 

"You  see!" 

So  off  he  went,  first  putting  on  a  pair  of  car- 
pet slippers.  lie  found  the  door  of  the  east 
room  ajar,  thus  affording  an  excellent  oppor- 
tunity for  the  novel  business  of  "peeking."  The 
contents  of  the  valise,  which  stood  open  on  a 
chair,  had  evidently  been  put  away.  The  hat- 
box,  with  cover  off,  allowed  him  the  view  of  a 
white  hat'  covered  with  soft  white  plume*, 


Tic  Sylvester  Quarry.  220 

Garet's  very  best  head-gear.  She,  seated  flat 
on  the  floor  in  front  of  Aunt  Pi,  was  busily  en- 
gaged unpacking  the  contents  of  the  tin  pail.  A 
small  bottle  of  olives,  a  candle  and  candle-stick, 
a  hox  of  animal  crackers,  a  silver-topped  jar  of 
vaseline,  a  package  of  sweet  chocolate,  a  bottle 
of  shoe-dressing,  were  some  of  the  articles 
enumerated  and  explained  as  she  set  them  on 
the  carpet. 

"I  thought  I  might  need  some  of  these  things, 
or  Darling  might,  and  yon  can't  always  find 
them  away  from  home,  yon  know,  Mis'  Dinah. 
Oh  !  I  forgot  I  brought  yon  some  sunflowers." 
She  was  untying  the  forgotten  bloom's  from 
around  her  shoulders. 

"I'm  'fraid  they  want  a  drink.  I'll  put  them 
in  this  pitcher."  Suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
she  plunged  the  long,  limp  stems  into  the  empty 
pitcher  before  she  noticed  that  there  was  no 
water  in  it. 

"Oh !"  she  cried,  disappointed. 

"Give  them  to  me,"  said  Aunt  Di,  rising. 
"There's  water  enough  in  my  pitcher." 

"Oh !  thank  you.  Is  this  your  room  ?"  asked 
Garet,  who  had  followed  on  as  far  as  the  door. 
""Right  next,  to  mine !  I  do  hope  you'll  be  sosh- 
iblo.  Your  room  is  beau'ful  just  like  you,  Mis' 
Dinah." 


230  The  Sylrrxlrr  Quarry. 

"'Mph!"  ejaculated  Aunt  Pi,  involuntarily 
st(  aling  a  glance  at  the  mirror  opposite. 

''Where  do  yon  think  I'd  better  put  these 
things?"  Garet  inquired,  taking  the  last  parcel 
from  the  crowded  pail.  "The  eat'bles  might 
draw  mice,  'n  that  would  be  a  pity  in  this  nice 
room."' 

"If  she  isn't  a  real  born  housekeeper!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Bolton,  fairly  beaming  with  satis- 
faction. 

"You  jes'  let  'em  be  'n  I'll  tend  to  'em  for 
you.  'N,  Garet,  don't  say  another  word  'bout 
your  payin'  me  any  board.  You're  welcome  to 
share  all  I  hev  as  long's  you  want  to." 

"  'Welcome  to  share',"  repeated  Garet,  draw- 
ing near  and  speaking  in  some  doubt.  "Does 
that  mean  that  I'm  invited  to  stay  with  you 
when  I  get  through  visitin'  Miss  Bird  L.  ?" 

"Yes,  Garet,  that's  just,  what  I  do  mean." 

X<'arer  still  moved  Garet,  One  small  brown 
hand  was  laid  against  Aunt  Di's  "nice  wrinkly 
chock,"  gently  she  patted  the  soft  skin,  then  a 
shy  kiss  fell  there,  and  once  more  there  was  a 
"little  hug." 

"I  declare  for't,  child,  T  b'lieve  you've  clean 
bewitched  me,"  said  Aunt  Di,  straightening  her 
spectacles.  "There,  now,  go  down  'n  talk  to 
Mary  Berdel  till  T  c'n  git  my  wits  to  workin'. 
?TsT  it's  time  to  be  seem'  about  dinner,  too." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  231 

So  she  bustled  away,  but  not  before  the  doc- 
tor had  fled,  and  Garet  started  in  on  what  really 
proved  to  be  the  "happiest  week  o>f  her  life." 
Hour  after  hour  passed  in  pure  delight  with  one 
or  another  of  these  "  'gree'ble  people,"  as  she 
declared  them  to  be.  When  night  came  she  was 
fairly  worn  out  with  joy.  Almost  too  sleepy 
to  talk  when  put  to  bed  in  the  lovely  east  room, 
she  did  not  forget  to  "return  thanks"  for  all  her 
pleasures. 

"I  must  say  a  long  prayer  to-night,  Mis' 
Dinah,"  she  said.  "There's  so  much  to  tell  God 
about,  and  the  best  of  all  is  you." 

So  she  knelt  at  Aunt  Diana's  knee  and  poured 
out  her  full  heart. 

"There's  just  one  more  thing,"  she  whispered 
as  the  clothes  were  tucked  in  and  she  lay  looking 
up  into  the  kind  face  bending  near  hers. 
Miiyn't  I — may  I — oh!  do,  please,  dear  Mis' 
Dinah,  let  me  call  you  gram'thur." 


CHAPTER  XVTT. 

TEMPTATION. 

MAC  found  Mrs.  Van  dyne  lying  on  a 
lounge  in  a  pretty  parlor  at  the  Hotel 
Runnymede,  a  small  but  exquisitely  kept  house. 
Her  brilliant  color  was  somewhat  paled,  but  her 
large  dark  eyes  seemed  to  have  lost  none  of  their 
brightness  as  they  smiled  a  welcome. 

"Yon  blessed  boy,  I  knew  yon  would  not  fail 
me,"  were  the  words  he  heard  as  he  went  eagerly 
forward  to  clasp  the  hand  she  held  out. 

"How  are  you  ?"  he  asked,  seating  himself 
quite  near,  full  of  sympathy.  "I  do  hope  you 
are  not  still  suffering." 

"'Not  so  much  as  yesterday,  but  I  passed  a 
wretched  night.  Such  a  horrible  headache — I 
scarcely  closed  my  eyes." 

Mac's  glance  strayed  from  the  mass  of  soft 
dark  hair  lying  against  the  silken  pillows,  over 
the  dainty  pink  gown  all  lace  and  frills,  to  the 
tiny  bandaged  foot,  then  back  to  the  beautiful 
face  forming  the  central  charm  of  the  whole  at- 
tractive picture. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  smiling  a  little,  "that  I 
must  take  vour  word  for  it." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  233 

An  expression  of  gratified  vanity  flashed  out 
for  an  instant  before  she  chicled  him. 

"Oh!  don't  yon  begin  to  be  a  flatterer,  Mac- 
Donald,  for  then  you  will  be  like  all  the  rest  of 
the  men,  and  I'm  not  going  to  have  you  spoiled. 
I  wish  I  could  bring  you  a  drop  of  wine  for 
your  refreshment.  Go  there  to  the  cabinet  and 
help  yourself.  You  look  weary.  I  know  you 
just  rushed  up  here  like  the  obliging  soul  you 
are." 

For  a  space  Mac  hesitated,  then,  his  heart 
beating  quickly,  he  said,  "Thank  you,  Mrs.  Van- 
dyne ;  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me  in  the  future 
from  taking  liquor." 

In  saying  the  words,  which  had  beforehand 
appeared  so  difficult,  he  felt  an  elation,  a  sense 
of  virtuous  self-commendation  which  both  sur- 
prised and  pleased  him.  He  wondered  why  he 
had  not  been  strong  enough  to  take  this  stand, 
which,  after  all,  was  so  easily  done,  at  the  very 
first.  His  satisfaction  was  still  further  in- 
creased when  Mrs.  Vandyne  said  at  once,  rather 
indifferently:  "It-  does  not  agree  with  you,  per- 
haps ?  I've  known  persons  who  could  not  touch 
it.  You  are  wise  to  let  it  alone.  And  now,  let 
me  tell  you  about  this  troublesome  business  mat- 
ter which  you  are  going  to  be  good  enough  to 
attend  to  for  me." 


234  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

It  did  not  appear,  even  to  Mac's  comparative 
inexperience,  such  an  important,  imperative 
errand, yet  he  reminded  himself, ashe  went  about 
it  with  punctilious  exactness,  that  there  were 
very  likely  complications  of  which  he  did  not 
know  whose  successful  outcome  depended  on  the 
prompt  despatch  of  the  day's  business.  He  was 
back  at  the  hotel  an  hour  or  two  after  luncheon. 

During  his  absence  Airs.  Vandyne  had  had  a 
severe  attack  of  pain.  She  lay,  faintly  moaning, 
the  picture  of  misery. 

In  the  midst  of  Mac's  sympathy  for  her,  he 
found  himself  wondering  how  he  could  now  get. 
away  to  rejoin  Keith  at  Saybrook.  For  one 
swift  instant  a  thorough  distaste  for  his  present 
surroundings,  companions  and  duties  swept  over 
him.  He  felt  stifled  in  the  heavily  perfumed 
atmosphere  of  the  luxuriously  appointed  room 
with  its  subtle  suggestion  of  insincerity  and  un- 
wholesomeness,  and  longed  for  a  deep  breath  of 
old  ocean's  fresh,  salt  air,  its  invigorating 
purity,  and  for  the  dear,  true  friends  on  board 
of  The  White  Cap. 

But  a  slight  movement  of  the  graceful  figure 
before  him,  the  low  sound  of  a  weak  but  musical 
voice,  brought  him  at  once  to  Mrs.  Vandviio's 
side. 

"Where  are  you,  Mac?"  she  murmured,  reach- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  235 

ing  her  hand  out  as  though  feeling  for  him.  "I 
can  scarcely  open  my  eyes.  It's  too  l>a<l  yon 
have  to  stay  with  me  instead  of  joining  your 
friends.  I  was  going  to  send  you  away  after 
a  while — but — you  won't  leave  me  now,  will 
you  ?" 

Her  small,  jewelled  fingers  closed  convul- 
sively about  his,  and  the  white  lids  lifted  slowly 
to  reveal  the  most  appealing  of  glances. 

"Of  course  not,"  was  his  hearty  response; 
"don't  think  of  such  a  thing!  I'll  see  you 
safely  back  home  again  before — 

"Mario!  Marie!"  she  suddenly  screamed, 
"quick,  give  me  a  powder.  Oh !  such  a  sharp 
pain !" 

She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  side,  every 
feature  convulsed. 

Marie  flew  to  the  cabinet,  poured  a  small  glass 
of  wine,  into  which  she  dropped  a  powder,  and 
hastened  to  her  side.  Mac  deftly  lifted  Mrs. 
Vandyne's  head,  and  was  about  to  place  the 
glass  to  her  lips  when  an  unexpected  movement 
of  her  hand  overturned  it  and  its  contents  were 
s] tilled  over  his  sleeve. 

"Bring  another,  quick,  Marie,"  he  said  in  a 
low  tone. 

Mrs.  Vandyne,  apparently  half  fainting,  paid 
no  heed.  When  the  second  2:! ass  was  brought 


236  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

she  was  able  to  swallow  a  little.  Sitting  sud- 
denly upright,  the  remaining  liquor  was  upset 
again,  drenching  his  hand.  She  gasped  and 
looked  wildly  about  for  an  instant,  then  sank 
back  in  the  pillows.  After  a  few  minutes  she 
drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief. 

"Oh !  how  lovely.  That  maddening  pain  has 
gone  as  suddenly  as  it  came.  This  respite  is 
heavenly !  But  yonr  coat  sleeve  is  all  drip- 
ping, Mac  Donald.  What  has  happened  ?" 

"Nothing  at  all,  I  assure  yon,"  he  declared, 
wiping  off  the  drops  with  a  napkin  Marie 
brought. 

"But  T  must  know.  There's  snch  a  strong 
smell  of  wine.  Oh  !  was  the  wine  spilled  ?  Did 
I  do  it?  I'm  so— " 

"I  beg  yon  not  to  excite  yourself,  dear  Mrs. 
Vandyne,"  interrupted  Mac,  distressed  at  her 
evident  concern;  "yon  will  be  ill  again.  This 
is  nothing.  Do  lie  down  and  try  to  be  quiet." 

"But  I'm  afraid  that—" 

She  was  lying  back  with  closed  eyes  and  her 
voice  trailed  off  into  silence.  In  a  few  minutes 
she  seemed  to  be  sleeping.  Marie  had  disap- 
peared, and  Mac  was  left  alone  to  battle  with 
the  first  real  temptation  of  his  life.  For  the 
fnmes  of  the  liqnor  were  stealing  to  his  brain, 
and  he  was  discovering,  to  his  horror,  that  an 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  237 

appetite  created  by  them  was  demanding  satis- 
faction. Hitherto  he  had  taken  wine,  egg-nog, 
toddy,  and  even  plain  whiskey,  as  occasion  of- 
fered and,  as  he  thought,  civility  required,  with- 
out any  special  liking  for  them  or  any  ill-effects, 
with  the  exception  of  that  last  time  when  he  had 
lK.ru  unexpectedly  and  unconsciously  led  6n 
into  a  night's  carouse.  The  humiliating,  dis- 
graceful memory  of  that  experience  had  brought 
him  to  a  realizing  sense  of  his  wrong-doing  as 
well  as  of  the  degradation  such  a  course,  pur- 
sued further,  would  bring;  but,  until  this  mo- 
ment, he  had  never  dreamed  of  any  possible 
danger.  lie  had  believed  himself  fully  capable 
of  taking  liquor  or  letting  it  alone  as  he  chose. 
But  now  came  the  disquieting  thought,  "I 
must  have  it,"  not  only  disquieting  but  im- 
perious. 

"What  nonsense!"  he  cried,  mentally.  "No- 
body could  acquire  a  taste  for  alcohol  in  these 
few  weeks.  It  cannot  be.  As  soon  as  I  get  this 
coat  off  I'll  be  all  right." 

His  impulse  was  to  pull  it  off  then  and  there 
and  to  rush  away  from  the  sweet,  penetrating, 
insistent  odor  which  filled  his  nostrils.  But  he 
feared  that  any  movement  would  break  the  re- 
freshing slumber  into  which  Mrs.  Vandyne  had 
fallen,  for  her  hand  still  rested  on  his  arm,  So 


238  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

he  sat  there,  how  long  he  could  not  tell,  looking 
down  at  the  beautiful  face  of  the  woman  whose 
least  word  was  fast  becoming  his  law.  Moment 
by  moment  all  the  good  of  the  past  two  weeks 
was  being  undone;  silently  but  surely  his  newly- 
made  and  sincere  resolutions  were  being  under- 
mined; as  subtle  as  the  effect  of  the  smell  of  the 
wine  on  his  senses  was  the  influence  of  the 
temptress  over  his  will,  leading  him  whither  she 
would. 

What  would  be  have  done  had  he  known  that 
during  that  long  hour  she  was  not  asleep,  but 
quietly  waiting  the  working  out  of  her  iniqui- 
tous scheme?  Would  his  righteous  indignation 
have  scorned  her  openly  and  fled  with  abhor- 
rence from  such  unholy  presence  ?  Who  can 
tell? 

By  and  by  she  stirred  slightly,  opening  her 
eyes  in  apparent  surprise  at  seeing  Mac  still 
sitting  beside  her. 

"Have  you  been  here  all  this  time?  You 
must  be  stiff,  you  poor  boy !  What  time  is  it  ? 
I  feel  almost  well  again." 

"That  is  good.  But  do  be  careful  not  to  ex- 
ert yourself  in  any  way.  It  is  nearly  five 
o'clock." 

"Will  you  call  Marie,  please  ?  And  then  do 
go  out  for  a  little  change  of  air.  We  shall  be 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  239 

having'  yon  ill  next,  and  that  would  be  a  calam- 
ity indeed,  my  loyal  knight." 

She  looked  so  bright  in  her  pretty  solicitude 
for  his  welfare  that  his  fears  of  a  prolonged  ill- 
ness began  to  grow  less. 

His  tirst  visit  was  to  the  telegraph  office  to 
send  a  message  to  Keith,  saying  that  he  could 
not  meet  them  as  he  had  hoped  to  do,  as  he  was 
to  return  to  Stand ish  with  Mrs.  Vandyne.  On 
his  way  back  to  the  hotel  he  passed  several  of  the 
glittering,  beautifully  decorated,  attractive  "gin 
palaces"  with  which  large  cities  abound.  If 
their  exteriors  were  alluring  to  passers-by, 
within  every  comfort  and  beauty  which  can 
charm  the  senses  gilded  the  black  pathway  lead- 
ing straight  down  from  each  one  to  the  pit.  At 
first  Mac  regarded  them  curiously,  feeling  a 
sort  of  contempt  for  men  who  did  not  avoid 
them ;  then,  as  through  an  open  door  a  strong 
smell  of  liquor  was  wafted  out  to  him,  he  sud- 
denly felt  again  that  horrible  thirst,  that  strong, 
enuer  craving  which  would  not  down  at  his  bid- 
ding. He  now  began  to  think  that  there  might 
be  men  in  the  world  who  would  not  resist 
temptation.  Farther  and  farther  on  he  walked. 
Once  he  opened  a  door  and  stood  irresolute  on 
the  threshold.  Handsome  pictures  met  his  eyes ; 
strains  of  sweet  music  fell  on  his  ear;  elegant 


2-iO  The  Sylccslcr  Quarry. 

cabinets  held  tall  bottles  and  graceful  glasses ; 
glimpses  of  interior  apartments  gave  hint  of 
still  more  charming  attractions;  everywhere  was 
light,  luxury,  beauty,  but  over  all  the  trail  of 
the  serpent.  lie  lingered  until  inquiring  looks 
turned  in  his  direction  reminded  him  to  pass 
on.  Summoning  all  his  resolution,  he  moved 
outward,  and  as  he  walked  rapidly  to  the  Ilun- 
nymede  he  found  himself  wondering  whether 
there  might  not  be  men  who  could  not  resist 
temptation. 

Mrs.  Vandyne  was  resting  comfortably  when 
he  entered  her  parlor. 

"It  is  absurd  to  stay  mewed  up  on  this 
lounge,"  she  declared,  with  a  charming  pout. 
"I  might  just  as  well  go  down  to  dinner  with 
you.  It  will  be  so  stupid  for  you  (lining1  alone." 

"Oh !  no,  I'll  not  mind.  We  must  think  of 
the  journey  to-morrow.  You  are  so  much  bet- 
ter now  you  must  not  do  anything  to  bring  on 
another  attack." 

"I  suppose  not.  Well,  I'll  be  good.  Is  your 
sleeve  dry  yet?" 

Mac  could  not  help  a  guilty  start.  He  had 
quite  forgotten  to  stop  at  a  cleaners  or  to  buy 
another  coat,  as  he  had  fully  intended.  An  old 
couplet  about  first  pitying,  then  enduring,  and 
then  embracing,  flashed  across  his  mind.  The 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  241 

odor  of  the  wine,  which  had  been  so  distasteful 
to  begin  with,  had  not  only  become  endurable, 
but  really  pleasant.  He  made  some  evasive, 
careless  reply  and  went  down  to  the  dining- 
room.  Here  again  temptation  met  him,  for  on 
all  sides  he  saw  tall  glasses  and  heard  the  pop- 
ping of  corks.  Even  stronger  than  before  was 
his  craving  for  some  sort  of  liquor. 

"Pshaw !  what's  the  harm !"  he  argued  with 
himself  as  he  ate  his  solitary  meal.  "These 
people  are  not  drunkards.  They  are  fine,  vigor- 
ous men  and  lovely  women,  and,  I  dare  say, 
they  take  some  sort  of  wine  every  day  of  their 
lives.  It  is  excess  that  harms  one,  not  modera- 
tion. A  man  who  cannot  control  his  appetite 
is  a  fool.  The  way  to  test  one's  strength  is  not 
by  shutting  oneself  away  from  the  world,  but 
by  mingling  freely  with  its  people  and  still  keep- 
ing oneself  clean.  If  I  can't  take  a  glass  of 
wine  with  my  dinner  without  going  overboard, 
it's  a  pity." 

Just  then  a  man  at  a  table  opposite  raised  a 
glass  of  clear,  red  wine  to  see  the  light  shine 
through  it.  Something  in  the  action  brought 
vividly  before  Mac  his  never-to-be-forgotten  in- 
terview with  Andy.  The  swollen,  distorted  evil 
face  of  the  brawny  Scotchman  as  he  held  out 
the  glass  of  toddy  he  had  prepared  for  the  boy 
16 


242  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

and  the  blazing  anger  of  his  eyes  when  he  heard 
it  crash  against  the  door-stone  were  plainly  be- 
fore his  eyes.  Beside  these  rose  Garet's  grave 
little  countenance.  He  saw  her  again  standing 
beside  him,  turning  the  leaves  of  her  great  Bible 
and  reading,  "Look  not  thou  upon  the  wine 
when  it  is  red." 

The  bottle  which  he  had  ordered  stood  beside 
his  plate.  But,  uttering  an  exclamation  of  im- 
patience, he  threw  down  his  napkin  and  left  the 
table  so  abruptly  as  to  draw  the  attention  of  his 
neighbors. 

The  head  waiter  followed  him,  solicitously, 
to  the  hall. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  ill,  sir,"  he  said. 

"Oh!  no;  it  is  only  a  passing  indisposition, 
thank  you.  A  breath  of  fresh  air  will  do  me 
good." 

He  ran  up-stairs  for  his  hat.  Entering  his 
room,  he  was  greeted  anew  with  the  odor  of 
wine. 

"Am  I  to  be  forever  haunted  in  this  fiendish 
way?"  he  cried,  aloud,  vexed  and  annoyed. 
Looking  about,  half  unconsciously,  his  eye  fell 
on  a  bottle  and  some  glasses  standing  on  a  pretty 
tray  on  the  table.  They  surely  had  not  been 
there  earlier  in  the  day.  He  stepped  near  and 
saw  that  one  of  the  glasses  was  half  full.  With- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  243 

out  a  moment's  hesitation  he  put  it  to  his  lips 
and  drained  every  drop.  Then  poured  another 
glass. 

"There !"  he  exclaimed ;  "now  there'll  be  no 
more  of  this  babyish  shilly-shallying.  I  feel 
better  already,  more  like  a  man.  And  that  mis- 
erable craving  has  gone.  I'll  go  down  now  and 
finish  my  dinner  like  other  people." 

Mac  was  of  such  a  temperament  that  a  very 
little  alcohol,  an  amount  which  would  not  affect 
ninety-nine  men  out  of  a  hundred,  mounted 
quickly  to  his  brain,  showing  itself  in  his  dark- 
ened and  shining  eyes,  and  especially  in  a  ner- 
vous excitement  of  manner. 

Lucille  Vandyne,  well  versed  in  all  the  ways 
as  well  as  the  weaknesses  of  mankind,  gave  him 
one  keen,  comprehensive  glance  when  he  came 
up  from  dinner. 

"Bravo!"  she  cried  under  her  breath.  "The 
stool  of  repentance  and  the  ten  days  of  goody- 
goody-ness  has  done  him  no  harm." 

During  his  absence  she  had  made  an  evening 
toilet  of  black  lace,  and  had  never  seemed  to 
him  more  beautiful  nor  more  charming. 

"But  I  fear  you  have  been  very  imprudent," 
he  reproached,  bending  to  adjust  her  pillows. 

"Not  at  all.  Marie  knows  just  how  to  he1}) 
me.  And  see  what  else  I've  done !" 


244  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Laughing  coquettishly,  she  held  up  a  couple 
of  theatre  tickets. 

At  first  he  did  not  comprehend,  but  when  her 
real  intention  did  dawn  upon  him  he  was  eager 
in  remonstrance. 

"I  can  never  let  you  in  the  world !"  he  cried 
aghast.  "Oh !  I  beg  you,  dear  Mrs.  Vandyne, 
do  give  up  the  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

"But  you  don't  know  how  much,  I've  im- 
proved by  this  time,"  she  said,  rather  dryly. 
"I  am  really  a  great  deal  better,  MacDonald ;  I 
can  tell.  I  would  run  no  risk,  I  assure  you.  The 
theatre  is  only  two  blocks  off,  and  I've  ordered  a 
carriage.  So  don't  say  one  word,  my  dear  boy. 
We  are  going." 

"But  my  clothes !"  he  exclaimed,  as  a  last  ar- 
gument, looking  ruefully  down  at  his  yachting 
suit  and  then  at  the  beautiful  cloak  Marie  was 
carefully  folding  over  the  dainty  lace  gown. 

"Oh !  we'll  have  to  offset  them  against  my 
clumsy  foot,"  she  responded,  holding  up  a  much 
smaller  bundle  of  bandages  than  he  had  seen  in 
the  morning.  "Now,  Marie,  my  fan,  and,  Mac- 
Donald,  your  arm.  I  can  manage  very  well  by 
walking  slowly." 

She  did  so;  surprisingly  so  it  appeared  to 
Mac,  who  thought  her  slight  limp  most  graceful. 
During  the  slow  ride  and  all  through  the  first 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  245 

hour  of  the  play  he  watched,  with  not  a  little 
anxiety,  for  the  anticipated  return  of  an  attack 
of  pain.  But  instead  of  fatigue  a  greater  de- 
gree of  gaiety  showed  itself,  until  he  forgot  his 
apprehensions  and  gave  himself  up  to  a  hearty 
enjoyment  of  what  was  going  on  on  the  stage. 

Late  as  it  was  when  they  returned,  a  delicious 
little  supper  awaited  them. 

"You  folks  don't  half  know  how  to  live,"  she 
laughed,  noting  his  look  of  surprise.  "What  is 
the  use  of  all  the  good  things  of  life  if  they're 
not  to  be  used  ?  It  is  high  time  a  big  fellow  like 
you  was  emancipated  from  leading  strings. 
Why,  you're  going  to  be  twenty-one  pretty  soon, 
aren't  you  ?" 

"On  the  tenth  of  October,"  replied  Mac,  seat- 
ing himself  opposite  her. 

"That  comes  just  in  good  time  before  I  close 
the  house.  You  must  let  me  give  you  a  birth- 
day supper.  We'll  have  only  a  few,  the  St. 
John's  and,  of  course,  the  Hermanns,  and  pretty 
little  Fanny  Markham,  whom  I  long  ago  picked 
out  as  your  sweetheart.  She's  been  abroad  for 
a  year  and  only  came  home  last  week.  She  is  a 
regular  little  beauty,  and  an  heiress  besides,  so 
promise  me  that  I  may  do  this  and  I'll  send  out 
the  invitations." 

Marie,  all  this  time,  was  stepping  noiselessly 


246  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

about  the  table,  serving  them  in  deft  perfect 
fashion.  She  noticed  a  peculiar  expression  on 
Mac's  face  as  he  hesitated  before  replying,  but 
Mrs.  Vandyne  was  oblivious  to  this  apparently. 
She  chatted  on  vivaciously,  while  he  vainly  en- 
deavored to  muster  up  the  courage  to  refuse  her. 
He  knew  that  his  coming  of  age  should  be  cele- 
brated at  home.  Even  in  the  midst  of  his 
whirling  thoughts,  for  he  was  drinking  more 
wine  now,  without  pretense  of  excuse,  he  re- 
membered that.  He  thought  he  had  made  it 
plain  to  her,  but,  somehow,  she  could  not  have 
understood  him,  for  was  she  not  saying,  "Then 
it's  all  settled,  and  we'll  have  a  real  good  time 
before  we  sail  away  across  the  blue  ocean,  Mac- 
Donald  mine." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  DECISION. 

\7  EITH  reached  the  Hotel  Runnymede 
_J1\-  somewhat  past  mid-afternoon  the  next 
day.  He  sent  his  card  up  to  Mac. 

"Sorry,  sir,  but  Mr.  CaldwelFs  not  in  his 
room,  explained  tine  many-buttoned  bell  boy, 
bringing  back  the  bit  of  pasteboard. 

"Is  Mrs.  Vandyne  still  here?  He  may  be 
with  her." 

"I'll  see,  sir." 

After  a  brief  absence  he  reported  that  the 
gentleman  was  not  there. 

"Then  please  take  my  card  to  Mrs.  Vandyne," 
said  Keith. 

Very  soon  thereafter  he  was  ushered  into  the 
small  parlor  to  be  received  cordially  by  Mrs. 
Vandyne. 

"This  is  a  charming  surprise,  Mr.  Dennet," 
she  said,  smiling  and  extending  her  hand.  "Per- 
haps MacDonald  has  told  you  of  my  unfortu- 
nate slip  on  the  stairway  here  the  other  evening. 
Do  pray  be  seated.  I  don't  know  what  I  should 
have  done  had  I  not  happened  to  remember  your 


248  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

yachting  trip.  He,  dear  boy,  has  been  kindness 
itself  to  me  in  my  helplessness.  I  can  but  be 
selfishly  glad  he  is  here,  even  though  he  is  losing 
a  great  deal  of  pleasure  I  know. 

But  how  happens  it  you  are  not  far  away  on 
The  White  Cap  ?  I  surely  am  not  delaying  the 
whole  party?" 

Her  pretty  air  of  anxious  inquiry  was  charm- 
ing. 

"Not  precisely  that,  Mrs.  Vandyne,"  Keith 
replied,  giving  her  the  benefit  of  a  clear,  direct 
look.  "We  set  off  as  we  had  planned,  but  when, 
on  receiving  Mac's  telegram  at  Saybrook,  I 
found  how  bitterly  disappointed  every  one  was, 
I  decided  to  come  and  offer  my  services  as  your 
escort  back  to  Standish,  as  well  as  in  any  other 
way  you  may  need,  asking  you  to  release  Mac, 
thus  allowing  him  to  overtake  The  White  Cap  at 
Newport  to-morrow." 

Her  soft  dark  eyes  did  not  droop  under  his 
searching,  almost  stern  gaze.  She  smiled 
slightly  as  she  seemed  to  be  considering  the  mat- 
ter for  a  moment. 

"Why,  by  all  means,  Mr.  Dennet,"  she  said 
then,  and  never  was  manner  more  frankly  cor- 
dial. "I  am  only  waiting  now  until  my  foot  is 
a  bit  stronger.  Your  duties  will  not  be  burden- 
some, I  assure  you.  It  will  give  me  great  pleas- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  249 

ure  to  have  your  escort  home,  and  also  to  know 
that  MacDonald  is  with  those  he  loves  best." 
Her  smile  broadened  here  and  a  nicker  of 
amusement  sparkled  in  her  eyes.  "Would  you 
like  to  go  to  his  room  and  speak  to  him  about 
this,  or  shall  I  send  for  him  to  come  here?" 

"I  was  told  below  that  he  is  out,"  said  Keith. 

"Oh !  nonsense ;  they  never  know.  He  was 
here  not  ten  minutes  ago  and  told  me  he  was  go- 
ing up  for  a  little  nap.  Just  rouse  him.  He's 
at  86  on  the  next  floor,  quite  near  the  elevator. 
When  you  have  had  your  chat,  come  down,  both 
of  you.  And,  Mr.  Dennet,  you  will,  of  course, 
dine  with  us  ?" 

"Thank  you." 

Keith  felt  that  he  was  both  awkward  and  un- 
gracious as  he  bowed  himself  out.  But  the  con- 
ventional "with  pleasure"  would  not  slip  from 
his  lips.  All  his  previous  distrust  of  the  woman 
before  him  had  been  intensified  during  each 
moment  of  the  interview,  and  his  heart  was 
heavy  with  foreboding  as  he  made  his  way  to 
86.  His  tap  on  the  door  meeting  with  no  re>- 
sponse,  he  softly  turned  the  knob,  at  the  same 
time  speaking  Mac's  name.  Still  no  one  an- 
swered. He  opened  the  door  and  stepped  inside. 
Mac  lay  on  the  bed  sound  asleep.  Keith  dis- 
liked to  wake  him,  so  sat  down  to  wait  awhile, 


250  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

hoping  his  nap  might  be  short.  Presently  he 
looked  around  for  something  to  read  and  his 
eye  fell  on  the  liquor  tray. 

"God  help  my  poor  boy,"  he  murmured,  "and 
give  me  strength  and  wisdom  for  this  dark  hour. 
How  I  wish  Andy  was  here !" 

With  the  wish  came  the  question,  why  can 
he  not  be  ?  Standish  is  only  three  hours  from 
New  York.  Noiselessly  he  left  the  room,  and, 
going  to  the  office,  despatched  a  message: 

"NEW  YORK,  Sept.  llth. 
"Come  at  once  to  Hotel  Runnymede.     Mac 
needs  you. 

"KEITH  DENNET." 

Returning  to  No.  86,  he  waited  patiently  an 
hour  or  more  before  Mac  opened  his  eyes. 

"Halloo !  where  did  you  come  from  ?"  he 
cried,  amazed,  springing  from  the  bed,  half 
asleep,  and  striding  towards  Keith.  "What's 
gone  wrong?" 

In  spite  of  himself,  Keith's  eyes  strayed  to- 
wards the  table.  Quickly  as  he  withdrew  them, 
Mac  had  seen  and  understood  the  glance.  He 
flushed  crimson. 

"Nothing  has  gone  wrong  with  us,"  responded 
Keith,  trying  in  A'ain  not  to  emphasize  the  pro- 
noun, "but  the  girls  and  we  all  miss  you  so 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  251 

greatly  that  I  told  Jeanie  I  would  come  on  and 
offer  myself  as  escort  for  Mrs.  Vandyne,  leav- 
ing you  free  to  join  the  yacht  at  Newport  to- 
morrow." 

"Why  don't  you  say  right  out,  fair  and 
square,  that  while  nothing  has  gone  wrong  with 
you,  everything  has  gone  wrong  with  me;  that 
I'm  going  to  the  dogs  in  a  hurry,  and  that  you've 
come  to  snatch  the  brand  from  the  burning," 
burst  out  Mac,  angrily.  "I  should  think  it 
would  be  much  more  honorable  than  the  sort  of 
underhand  dealing  you're  treating  me  to." 

Astonishment  at  such  words  from  Mac's  lips 
kept  Keith  from  any  reply.  He  could  hardly 
believe  his  ears.  Natural  indignation,  too,  was 
stirring  within  him  when  a  closer  look  at  Mac- 
Donald's  blood-shot  eyes  and  surly  expression, 
so  unlike  his  true  self,  brought  a  realizing  sense 
of  his  rudeness. 

"This  is  not  Mac ;  it  is  a  man  under  the  irri- 
tating, degrading  effect  of  liquor,"  he  thought. 

He  went  quite  near  and  laid  his  hand  affec- 
tionately on  Mac's  shoulder,  as  he  had  done  hun- 
dreds of  times  before. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  to  ask  you  to 
do  now  what  you  will  some  day  be  glad  of,  to  go 
away  from  this  so-called  friend  who  is  harming 
you.  I'm  not  going  to  argue,  Mac,  but  I  do  en- 


252  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

treat  you,  as  you  love  your  God  and  respect  your- 
self, that  you  leave  this  place  and  this  person, 
once  and  for  all,  forever." 

Mac  shook  off  Keith's  hand  roughly  and 
folded  his  arms.  "No,"  he  said,  facing  him, 
and  now  a  fiery  spark  showed  in  his  eye,  "I  shall 
not  leave  this  place  and  this  person,  as  you  so 
politely  call  the  lady  I  came  here  to  assist.  I 
am  not  in  the  habit  of  delegating  such  duties  to 
other  men.  Neither  am  I  coming  at  any  time 
to  rejoin  you  on  The  Whit©  Cap.  Henceforth 
I  intend  living  where  I  can  be  free  to  do  as  I 
please,  without  being  tied  to  the  apron-strings 
of  any  one." 

Again  Keith  was  silent  from  sheer  amaze- 
ment. Could  it  be  Mac  who  was  speaking  so  to 
him  ?  Why,  only  yesterday  morning  the  lad 
had  been  his  own  bright,  cheery  self,  clear-eyed, 
light-hearted,  apparently  emancipated  from  the 
evil  influences  of  the  summer.  And  here,  in  so 
brief  a  time,  he  appeared  in  such  new,  such 
hateful  guise,  discourteous,  rough,  out  of  tem- 
per, combative,  smelling  of  liquor.  It  seemed 
incredible. 

Keith  did  not  then  know,  what  he  afterwards 
learned  from  Mr.  Standish,  that  while  Uncle 
Ben,  Mac's  father,  had  been  a  sober  man,  old 
Grandfather  Caldwell  drank  himself  to  death, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  253 

and  that  the  awful  curse  of  an  inherited  thirst 
for  liquor  had  fallen  upon  the  third  generation 
in  the  person  of  MacDonald.  And  so  it  was 
that  to  tissues,  already  poisoned,  these  last  in- 
dulgences of  his  came  like  a  torch  to  tow,  and, 
in  his  case,  it  would  take  but  very  little  com- 
paratively of  the  vile  stuff  to  change  the  man  to 
the  beast.  Difficult  as  it  was  for  Keith  to  leave 
him,  his  common  sense  advised  that  words  would 
only  be  wasted  in  his  present  condition. 

"Good-bye,  Mac,"  he  said,  speaking  as  cheer- 
fully as  possible.  He  dared  not  add  another 
word  for  fear  his  voice  should  fail  him. 

An  expression  of  surprise  crossed  MacDon- 
ald's  face  for  an  instant.  He  had  evidently  ex- 
pected further  remonstrances. 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Keith,  a  pleasant  voyage  and 
safe  return."  He  shook  Keith's  outstretched 
hand,  speaking  much  as  he  might  have  done  to 
a  stranger.  The  door  was  hardly  closed  before 
he  had  stretched  himself  on  the  bed  with  a  yawn 
of  relief  and  dropped  asleep. 

Keith  stopped  in  the  office  long  enough  to  send 
a  note  to  Mrs.  Vandyne,  excusing  himself  from 
dining  with  her. 

On  reading  his  hastily  written  words  she 
smiled. 

"You  managed  that  well,  Lucille,"  she  said  to 


254  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

herself.  "What  he  saw  and  probably  heard  up- 
stairs has  cured  him  of  his  haste  to  be  of  use  to 
other  people.  That  business  is  settled  and,  let 
us  hope,  the  last  cord  cut  which  holds  Mac- 
Donald  back.  He  is  a  dear  boy.  I'm  not  sure 
but  Fred  is  right  about  my  becoming  fond  of 
him.  lie  shall  have  the  prettiest  birthday  sup- 
per money  and  I  can  contrive,  bless  his  heart !" 

While  she  sat  thus,  congratulating  herself  on 
her  success  and  planning  for  the  future;  while 
Mac  slept  on,  a  heavy,  dreamless  sleep  which 
should  bring  small  refreshment  to  his  fuddled 
brain;  while  Keith  walked  the  streets  sick  in 
spirit,  distraught,  eagerly  impatient  for  Andy's 
coming,  yet  wondering  whether  or  not  it  had 
been  a  foolish  thing  to  send  for  him,  that  big 
loving  heart  was  hastening  to  the  three  as  fast 
as  steam  could  bring  him.  He  had  by  good  for- 
tune received  Keith's  message  in  time  to  catch 
a  late  afternoon  train ;  so  the  bells  were  just, 
ringing  for  nine  when  the  two  friends  met  at  the 
station  in  New  York.  A  few  words  put  Andy  in 
possession  of  all  the  facts. 

"  'Tis  a  time  for  us  to  seek  t'  dear  Lord's 
guidance  wi'  humble  hearts,"  said  he.  "Let  us 
find  a  quiet  room ;  'tis  no  fitting  hour  th'  nicht 
tae  see  th'  twa  of  them.  Nae,  Master  Keith, 
I'm  thinkin'  if  it  be  nae  better  for  you  tae  gae 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  255 

on  noo  an'  get  tae  th'  White  Cap  by  mornin'. 
You're  bein'  missed  sair  there,  nae  don't,  an' 
you've  said  th'  last  word  tae  Master  Mac.  Th' 
dear  Lord  may  gi'  me  speech  wi'  him,  but  I've 
a  bit  tae  say  to  her  on  my  own  account." 

Keith,  burdened  as  he  was,  could  not  repress 
a  smile  at  this  unexpected  flash  of  very  human 
nature.  Andy's  quick  eye  caught  the  smile.  He 
understood  its  meaning. 

"Ay !"  he  said,  grimly,  "you're  smilin'  an' 
thinkin'  wi'  reason  that  that  doesn't  sound  verra 
Christ-like.  Weel,  I've  never  set  cop  for  a 
saint,  Master  Keith,  an'  there  cooms  times  when 
a  mon's  got  to  let  off  some  o'  the  old  Adam  in 
him.  I've  stood  all  that  can  be  stood  o'  her 
wi'out  givin'  her  some  o'  my  mind.  An'  I'd 
just  as  leaves,  Master  Keith,  that  you  are  not 
listenin'.  You  might  fin'  out,  ye  ken,  what  a 
tongue  Andy  Graham  has  in  his  head.  But  it's 
nae  laughin'  matter;  in  truth,  I'm  larnin'  noo 
as  I  never  kenned  before  th'  heavy  heart  my 
old  father  carried  a'  th'  years  o'  my  evil 
doin'." 

The  next  hour  was  spent  in  prayer  and  earnest 
conversation;  then  Keith  took  a  midnight  train 
for  Newport,  leaving  Andy  to  get  what  rest  he 
could. 

In  the  morning,  as  early  as  he  thought  wise, 


256  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

he  presented  himself  at  the  Runnymede,  and  in- 
quired for  Mrs.  Vandyne. 

"Your  card,  sir,  please,"  said  the  bell-boy. 

"I've  nae  card,  my  lad ;  I'll  just  walk  oop  tae 
her  room.  I  dinna  wish  to  have  her  ken  that 
I've  coom." 

Quite  bewildered  at  this  strange  announce- 
ment, the  wide-eyed  boy,  standing  in  wholesome 
awe  of  Andy's  masterful  air,  silently  led  the 
way  up-stairs  and  threw  the  door  of  her  parlor 
wide  open. 

"Thank  you,  my  lad,"  said  Andy,  slipping  a 
coin  into  his  hand,  and  thereby  causing  the  big 
eyes  to  open  still  wider. 

Mrs.  Vandyne,  seated  by  the  window  reading 
the  morning  paper,  looked  quickly  around  at 
Andy's  unceremonious  entrance. 

"Oh !"  she  cried,  springing  to  her  feet,  fairly 
pale  with  surprise  and,  one  would  have  said, 
alarm.  "How  did  you  come  here?" 

"By  your  own  summons,  ma'am,"  said  Andy, 
hat  in  hand,  but  as  stiffly  upright  as  his  backbone 
would  allow. 

"My  own  summons!"  repeated  she,  quailing 
under  his  scrutiny.  "What  do  you  mean  ?  I've 
never  sent  for  you.  There  must  be  some  mis- 
take." 

"Whose  hand  ga'ed  him  his   first  drink  o' 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  257 

liquor  ?"  was  his  unexpected  question,  accom- 
panied by  lightning-like  glances  and  a  finger 
pointing  straight  towards  Mac,  who  sat  at  an- 
other window  petrified  with  astonishment, 
speechless. 

Vainly  did  Mrs.  Yandyne  summon  her  self- 
control,  her  pretty  airs  and  graces,  her  tact,  her 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  They  one  and  all 
deserted  her  in  the  presence  of  this  fearless,  ac- 
cusing spirit,  before  whose  strength  and  whose 
purity  she  felt  surely  that  her  little  self  lay  bare 
and  despised.  Even  physically  she  was  unable 
to  endure  the  indictment  of  the  steady  grey  eyes 
fixed  upon  her  in  scorn. 

She  cowered  and  shrank  back,  half  sobbing, 
wholly  unnerved,  into  her  chair,  hiding  her  face 
in  her  trembling  hands.  She  did  not  even  ap- 
peal to  Mac  for  protection,  nor  order  Andy  from 
the  room.  Neither  did  MacDonald  come  to  her 
relief. 

Convicted  by  his  conscience,  stunned  by  the 
sudden  appearing  of  the  friend  to  whom  he  had 
so  recently  made  every  good  resolution,  he,  too, 
was  voiceless  and  helpless  before  him. 

A  silence  that  could  be  felt  filled  the  hand- 
some room. 

"You  hae  nae  answer  tae  that  question,"  said 
Andy  at  last,  "but  you  ken  well  enough  who  it 
17 


258  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

is  that  has  turned  th'  lad  frae  ways  o'  righteous- 
ness. On  your  head  be  a'  th'  consequences  o' 
your  act,  an'  may  th'  dear  Lord  hae  mercy  on 
you." 

He  stopped  and  looked  slowly  about  the  richly 
furnished  apartment,  at  the  bowed  figure  of 
Mrs.  Vandyne,  motionless  as  a  statute  in  its 
trailing  scarlet  gown,  at  Mac,  whose  face,  too, 
was  now  concealed  from  view. 

"I  coom  here,"  he  went  on,  "tae  tell  you  my 
opeenion  o'  such  doin's  as  yours;  tae  hae  some 
plain  speech  wi'  you  oot  o'  a  sore  an'  wrathfu' 
heart;  but  I  feel  that  th'  God  you've  both  dis- 
honored is  a'ready  here  an'  is  speakin'  tae  you 
noo  mair  tender  an'  mair  convincin'  than  any 
words  o'  mine  could  ever  be.  Dinna,  I  beg  you 
turn  him  awa'  as  you  would  fain  turn  me.  For 
he  loves  you,  an'  he  grieves  sair  o'er  th'  evil  way 
you're  gangin'  in,  you  puir,  weak;,  mistaken 
souls." 

He  fell  on  his  knees  and  looked  upward  with 
clasped  hands. 

"Oh!  dear  Father  i'  heaven,  wi'  you  look 
doon  o'  us  noo  an'  pity  an'  bless  us  a'.  Remem- 
ber, dear  Lord,  that  we  are  a'  but  dust;  do  not 
visit  our  iniquities  upon  us  but  forgeeve,  for  th' 
Master's  sake.  Gie  to  us  a'  who  need  it,  bounti- 
fully o'  thy  own  gracious  spirit.  We  canna 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  259 

mak'  our  own  way  i'  such  an  evil  world.  We 
fa'  by  the  way  an'  sin  against  thy  lovin'  heart. 
Oh !  help  us  a'.  Mak'  us  strong  an'  lead  us  back 
tae  thee. 

"Especially,  dear  Father,  tak'  care  noo  o'  th' 
precious  lad  who's  strayin'  far  frae  his  Fath- 
er's hoose.  Win  him  back  frae  th'  things  which 
look  sae  fair  tae  his  young  eyes,  but  which  will 
turn  tae  husks  i'  his  hands.  He  is  thine,  dear 
Lord.  Spare  him  longer,  walkin'  i'  th'  ways  o' 
tli'  devil. 

"An'  hae  mercy  on  this  puir  woman.  Gie  her 
true  knowledge  o'  th'  Father  she  is  greevin.' 
She  has  forgotten  thee;  show  thyself  anew  tae 
her  foolish  heart.  An'  forgivin'  a'  her  sin  an' 
naughtiness,  mak'  her  thine  own  agen. 

"For  th'  dear  Savior's  sake.    Amen." 

Heavy  sobs  were  now  heard,  but  no  one  spoke. 
Andy  walked  over  to  Mac  and  laid  a  gentle  hand 
on  his  head. 

"Will't  coom  wi'  me,  Master  Mac  ?"  he  asked, 
his  voice  quivering.  "There's  naught  but  lovin' 
hearts  to  meet  ye." 

~No  response.  Andy  waited  some  minutes, 
but  Mac  did  not  stir. 

"Withhold  not  thy  tender  mercies  frae  him, 
O  Lord !"  he  said,  still  with  his  hand  on  Mac's 
head.  "'Let  thy  lovin'  kindness  an'  thy  truth 


260  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

continually  preserve  him.  For  innumerable 
evils  hae  compassed  him  aboot;  his  iniquities 
hae  taken  hand  on  him  sae  that  he  is  nicht  able 
tae  look  oop.  Be  pleased,  O  Lord !  tae  deliver 
him.  O  Lord!  mak'  haste  tae  help  him.  Let 
them  be  ashamed  an'  confounded  that  seek  after 
his  soul  tae  destroy  it ;  an'  help  us  a',  dear  Lord, 
tae  forgi'  our  enemies.  Amen." 

Quietly  then  he  passed  from  the  room  and 
went  his  way  homeward. 

It  was  many  minutes  before  Mrs.  Vandyiie 
slipped  noiselessly  out  and  shut  herself  in  her 
own  room  for  the  rest  of  the  morning,  leaving 
Mac  alone  with  his  thoughts. 

They  met  at  the  luncheon  table;  she,  beauti- 
fully dressed,  as  gay  and  even  more  vivacious 
than  ever.  Mac,  at  first  rather  distrait,  followed 
her  cue,  and  they  were  soon  chatting  merrily 
over  the  matinee  they  were  to  attend  that  after- 
noon. They  both  felt,  without  the  saying,  that 
Mac  was  now  indeed  fully  emancipated  from  his 
"leading  strings,"  and  that  his  decision  to  fol- 
low a  worldly  life  was  irrevocable. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

VARIOUS  THINGS. 

KEITH  reached  Newport  the  following 
morning.  His  account  of  the  meeting 
with  Mac  and  Mrs.  Vandyne  was  brief,  for  he 
gave  no  particulars,  saying  only  that  Mac  would 
not  be  with  them  at  any  time  during  their  trip, 
lie  put  the  case  to  them  in  as  cheerful  a  way  as 
possible,  concealing  his  own  anxiety. 

"Mac  prefers  to  remain  in  New  York  with 
his  friends  there,"  he  said.  "We  are  sorry,  of 
course,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  we  should 
lose  all  the  pleasure  we  have  anticipated.  Since 
the  weather  is  so  fine,  suppose  we  change  our 
plans  and  go  around  to  Boston  instead  of  South. 
What  do  you  say,  Jeanie  ?" 

"I  think  that,  will  be  pleasant,  I  always  en- 
joy going  up  Boston  harbor." 

"And  can  we  not  stop  at  Provincetown,  Mr. 
Keith  ?"  asked  Marcia.  "I  was  reading,  only 
the  other  day,  such  an  interesting  description 
of  the.  place  where  the  pilgrims  first  landed  and 
where  the  May  Flower  compact  was  signed." 

"By  all  means,"  replied  Keith.     "The  harbor 


262  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

there  is  one  of  our  finest,  and  the  quaint  old- 
town  well  worth  a  visit.     How  do  you  vote,  Miss 
Lucinda  ?" 

"Oh  !  I'm  with  the  majority/'  said  Louise. 

"And  you,  Violet?" 

But  Violet  had  slipped  away. 

"She  will  not  object,  Mr.  Keith,"  declared 
Marcia.  "Neither  will  Mark.  So  let's  call  it 
decided." 

"Very  good.  Now,  a  consultation  with  the 
captain  comes  next.  Then,  after  spending  the 
rest  of  the  day  driving  about  here,  we'll  set 
sail." 

This  was  accordingly  done.  For  two  days 
The  White  Cap  lay  at  anchor  in  beautiful 
Provincetown  Harbor;  another  two  were  passed 
in  Boston,  after  which  a  leisurely  return  voyage 
to  New  York  occupied  the  remainder  of  the 
week.  On  arriving  at  home,  the  party  had  been 
absent  just  fourteen  days,  during  which  time  a 
number  of  things  had  happened. 

In  the  first  place,  The  Hustler,  as  the  Her- 
manns called  their  new  store,  had  been  opened 
with  a  great  flourish  of  trumpets,  and  was  al- 
ready doing  a  brisk  business.  Innocent-looking 
soda  water,  soft  drinks,  ale  and  beer  were  the 
only  liquors  ostensibly  offered  for  sale,  but  it 
was  generally  understood  that  in  a  certain  room 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  263 

in  the  rear,  a  room  that  could  be  entered  both 
from  within  and  without,  whiskey,  brandy,  gin 
and  rum  were  obtainable  in  small  or  large  quan- 
tities. 

In  the  next  place,  Mrs.  Vandyne  had  sud- 
denly changed  her  plans,  and  was  preparing  to 
close  her  house  and  go  abroad  early  in  October 
instead  of  waiting  until  winter. 

"We  will  have  your  birthday  supper  on  the 
other  side,  MacDonald,"  she  had  said  to  him, 
as  they  followed  Andy  home  on  the  evening 
train.  "We  shall  be — less  likely  to  interrup- 
tions." 

"Yes,"  answered  Mac,  with  so  singular  an  ex- 
pression on  his  face  that  she  did  not  venture  to 
allude  again  to  the  extraordinary  occurrence  of 
the  morning. 

The  third  bit  of  news  which  surprised  every 
one  was  nothing  less  than  that  Margaret  Van- 
dyne,  during  her  mother's  absence  abroad,  was  to 
stay  with  the  Strongs.  It  had  been  brought 
about  in  this  wise : 

One  morning,  the  fourth  of  Garet's  happy 
visit,  she  was  startled  to  see  her  mama's  cook 
hurrying  up  the  road.  Dr.  Strong  had  informed 
that  person  of  her  charge's  whereabouts  within 
an  hour  of  the  "moving  over,"  and  the  "very 
nice  lady  sometimes"  had  been  perfectly  agree- 


264  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

able  to  the  migration.     She  appeared  now  to  be 
in  great  haste. 

Garet  ran  to  open  the  gate. 

"Here,  Miss  Gay,  is  a  telegram  from  your 
maw  sayin'  she's  comin,'  home  to-night.  Hurry 
up  an'  git  your  things  together  an'  I'll  carry  'em 
back  for  ya" 

Garet  shut  the  gate  and  retreated  several 
steps. 

"Indeed,  cook,  it's  imposs'ble.  I've  been  in- 
vited for  a  whole  week,  and  I've  excepted,  and — 
and — I  don't  want  to  come  home  yet,  either." 

"But  ye've  got  to  come,  right  now,"  declared 
cook,  with  emphatic  nods  of  her  red  head.  "It'll 
be  as  much  as  me  place  is  worth  if  the  missus 
comes  home  an'  finds  ye  stayin'  wid  the  neigh- 
bors. The  last  words  she  says  to  me  was,  'Be 
sure  you  don't  let  Miss  Garet  stir  out  o'  the 
yard.'  " 

She  advanced  towards  the  little  girl,  but  Garet 
darted  away  like  a  bird  and  flew  to  Aunt  Diana, 
who  was  sitting  on  the  back  porch  paring  apples 
and  thinking  how  she  should  hate  to  part  with 
her  guest  on  Mrs.  Vandyne's  return.  Without 
warning  a  small  whirlwind  rushed  upon  her. 

"O  gram'thur !  gram'thur !  I  don't  have  to  go 
till  the  week's  up,  do  I  ?" 

Apples,  spectacles,  dishes  and  knives  mingled 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  2G5 

in  a  heap  on  the  floor,  but  Aunt  Diana  paid  no 
heed  to  them.  Her  first  thought  was  for  the 
trembling  child. 

"To  be  sure  you  don't.  Who's  been  saying 
anything  to  you  'bout  goin'  away?  There! 
don't  shake  so!  Sit  up  and  tell  me." 

Just  at  that  moment  cook's  portly  figure  came 
in  sight,  and  Garet  clung  again  to  Aunt  Diana 
in  a  panic  of  fear. 

"You  jes'  set  down  there  an'  wait  a  minit," 
said  Mrs.  Bolton,  pointing  to  the  step.  "Come 
with  me,  Garet,  and  don't  you  be  a  mite  afraid 
that  anybody'll  carry  you  off  till  your  mother 
gits  here.  Now,  you  take  the  scissors  'n  rip  out 
this  tuck,  'n  I'll  'tend  to  Miss  Biddy." 

"Miss  Biddy!"  repeated  Garet,  all  her  ex- 
citement calmed  by  her  confidence  in  Aunt  Di's 
ability  to  manage  things.  "That  isn't  cook's 
name.  She  is  Mrs.  Nora  Me — something. 
Hens  are  biddies." 

'N  so  be  old  cats  sometimes,"  said  Aunt  Di, 
with  a  queer  little  pucker  of  her  lips.  "Now  you 
set  there  'n  don't  stir  a  step  till  I  come  back." 

"Miss  Biddy"  was  soon  disposed  of,  and  the 
happy  Garet  again  flitting  about  the  place  as 
light-hearted  as  a  butterfly;  but  Aunt  Diana 
was  ill  at  ease. 

"That  hoppety  little  Widder  Van  ain't  no 


266  The  Sylvester  Quarry, 

more  fit  ter  have  the  care  of  a  child  like  Garet 
than  nothin'  in  this  world.  But  I  'spose  likely 
she's  got  some  mother  love  in  her  ef  she  ain't 
got  no  sense,  'n  there' d  be  feathers  a-flyin'  ef 
I  was  to  ask  her  to  give  me  the  poor  little  starvin' 
soul.  But  I  ain't  a-goin'  ter  set  still  an'  see  her 
carried  off  afore  her  visit,  as  she  calls  it's  out, 
not  s'  long's  my  name's  Diana  Bolton  !  I'll  have 
a  talk  with  John  B.  'bout  it  soon's  ever  he  comes 
home." 

There  was  no  chance  for  that  talk  during  the 
afternoon,  so  one  was  had  with  Berdel  instead, 
resulting  in  Mrs.  Vandyne's  finding  a  note 
awaiting  her. 

"DEAR  MRS.  VANDYKE  : 

"We  have  taken  the  liberty  of  inviting  your 
little  girl  to  spend  a  few  days  with  us  during 
your  absence.  She  tells  us  that  you  are  coming 
home  this  evening,  so>,  as  we  have  various  things 
planned  for  the  remaining  days  of  the  week,  we 
beg  that  you  will  allow  us  the  pleasure  of  her 
company  until  Saturday  afternoon  next,  when 
my  brother  will  bring  her  home. 

"Sincerely,          MARY  BERDEL  STRONG." 
BIRD'S  NEST,  Thursday. 

"There!"  Aunt  Di  had  exclaimed  when  she 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  267 

read  this  over,  "there's  the  first  blow  struck  for 
liberty!" 

"Liberty,  Aunt  Di,"  laughed  Berdel,  sealing 
the  envelope.  "Who  could  be  freer  to  go  or  to 
stay  than  Garet  ?  She  had  a  true  disdain  for 
bolts  and  bars  and  cooks,  too,  when  she  moved 
over  here." 

"You  know  what  I  mean,  Mary  Berdel,  's 
well's  I  do,  'n  you're  every  bit's  fierce  for  havin' 
that  child  comc's  I  be,  for  all  your  protendin' 
it's  all  my  notion,  you  know  you  be." 

"ISTo,  Aunt  Di,  I  truly  never  supposed  before 
that  I  was  fierce,"  was  Berdel's  amused  re- 
sponse. 

When  it  camo  Mrs.  Vandyne's  turn  to  read 
the  note  she  first  frowned,  then  smiled,  and  then 
sat  down  to  reply. 

"DEAR  Miss  STRONG: 

"Of  course,  Garet  may  stay  with  you  as  you 
wish.  I  am  under  many  obligations  for  your 
kindness  to  her  during  my  enforced  absence, 
and  shall  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  on 
you  to-morrow  morning  to  express  my  thanks  in 
person.  Cordially, 

"LUCILLE  VANDYKE." 

Thursday. 


268  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"And  I  do  hope/'  she  said,  as  she  wrote  the 
last  word,  "that  I  may  be  spared  meeting  that 
dreadful  old  woman." 

But  as  it  happened,  that  dreadful  old  woman 
was  the  very  first  person  she  saw  as  she  stepped 
from  her  carriage  at  Dr.  Strong's  door  the  next 
afternoon.  Aunt  Diana  was  weeding  a  flower- 
bed and  Garet  stooped  close  beside  her;  both 
arose  as  they  heard  the  carriage  wheels. 

"Oh!  there's  mamma.  Isn't  she  pretty! 
You've  met  her,  haven't  you,  gram'thur?"  and 
the  eager  little  face  had  on  its  "society"  ex- 
pression. Without  waiting  for  an  answer  she 
flew  away  to  greet  Mrs.  Vandyne,  who  by  that 
time  was  walking  along  the  path  directly  to- 
wards Aunt  Di,  standing  as  straight  and  stiff  as 
the  Irish  juniper  tree  beside  her. 

Garet,  holding  her  mother's  hand,  made  in- 
troductions in  her  politest  way. 

"Mamma,  this  is  my  dear  gram'thur.  Her 
true  name  is  Mis'  Dinah,  but  she  lets  me  call 
her  gram'thur,  and  she  is  just  as  good  as  a  truly 
one.  I  didn't  ever  have  a  truly  gram'thur,  did 
I,  mamma  ?" 

For  an  instant  Mrs.  Vandyne  lost  all  sense 
of  her  present  surroundings.  The  face  and 
figure  of  a  mother,  loving  and  devoted,  but  for 
long  years  utterly  neglected,  rose  before  her  vis- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  269 

ion.  With  swift  impatience  she  thrust  the  up- 
braiding memory  aside. 

"Hush,  darling!  you  are  chattering  too  fast. 
I'm  delighted  to  meet  you,  Miss  Dinah,  and  hope 
you- 

She  paused,  amazed  at  the  flood  of  angry 
color  which  swept  over  Aunt  Dinah's  face. 

"My  name's  Di-an-na  Bolton,"  said  that  in- 
dignant lady,  her  eyes  ablaze  behind  her  spec- 
tacles. 

"Oh-h !  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  must  have  mis- 
understood my  little  girl.  I  do  hope,  Miss  Bol- 
ton, that  you  have  not — " 

Again  she  was  interrupted. 

"I  was  married  to  Zenas  Bolton  before  you 
was  born,  long  enough,"  was  now  Aunt  Di's 
succinct  announcement. 

Mrs.  Vandyne  smiled  graciously. 

"How  unfortunate  I  am!  I  do  hope,  dear 
Mrs.  Bolton,  that  you  have  not  had  any  trouble 
with  my  little  Gay." 

"Trouble!"  repeated  Aunt  Diana,  her  grim 
features  undergoing  a  marvelous  transformation 
as  she  turned  to  look  down  at  Garet.  Her  very 
voice  was  changed  by  the  love  overflowing  her 
heart.  Again  to  the  worldling  came  remem- 
brance of  her  own  mother's  face  bending  above 
her  childish  one,  lighted  with  just  such  tender, 
undying  affection. 


270  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Garet  couldn't  be  no  trouble  ef  she  trie!! 
She's  the  dearest  little  creature  in  the  hull 
world,  'n  she  needs  the  best  of  mothers,  too." 

Just  at  this  moment  Berdel,  who,  from  her 
couch  behind  the  closed  blinds,  had  heard  all 
this  conversation  with  much  amusement,  called 
out,  "Aunt  Di,  won't  you  bring  Mrs.  Vandyne 
in  to  see  me  ?" 

She  feared  that  Aunt  Diana  would  not  be 
able  to  restrain  herself  further  from  "saying 
things"  to  the  visitor,  a  fear  she  herself  had 
that  morning  expressed. 

"Miss  Bird  L.  can't  walk  much,  you  know, 
mamma,"  whispered  Garet,  "but  she's  lovelier 
than  anything." 

During  the  next  few  minutes  the  fact  of  Mrs. 
\randyne's  approaching  trip  abroad  was  made 
known.  Aunt  Di's  heart  gave  a  great  leap,  but 
she  made  no  sign. 

About  an  hour  after  dinner  that  same  day, 
while  Garet  wras  taking  a  nap,  she  changed  her 
dress,  put  on  her  best  bonnet,  and  went  in  for  a 
word  with  Berdel. 

"Mary  Berdel,"  she  said,  drawing  on  her 
mitts  energetically,  "I'm  a-goin'  to  call  on  the 
Widder  Van.  You  ring  the  bell  for  Ellen  if 
you  want  anything.  I  shan't  be  gone  long.  Xo, 
I'm  not  going  to  tell  you  nor  anybody  else  what 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  271 

I'm  goin'  for,  so  you  needn't  bo  askin'  me  with 
those  great  eyes  o'  yourn.  I'm  not  like  John  B., 
who  can't  keep  a  thing  to  himself  five  minutes 
after  he  gits  in  the  house.  Zenas  was  jes'  so. 
Told  me  everything  he  knew  'n  lots  more,  too, 
sometimes.  Garet's  asleep  up-stairs." 

So  saying  she  walked  off. 

If  Berdel  had  been  amazed  at  Aunt  Di's  des- 
tination, Mrs.  Vandyne  was  no  less  astonished, 
to  say  nothing  of  being  dismayed,  on  her  ar- 
rival. For  the  second  time  recently  her  com- 
posure seemed  on  the  point  of  deserting  her ; 
she  felt  herself  growing  nervous  under  the  un- 
swerving regard  of  a  pair  of  grey  eyes  near  kin 
to  Andy's  own. 

Luckily,  Mrs.  Bolton  was  fully  as  uncom- 
fortable as  her  hostess,  and  came  directly  to  the 
object  of  her  visit  in  characteristic  fashion. 

"What  be  you  goin'  to  do  with  Garet  when 
you're  skylarkin'  about  in  forren  parts  this  win- 
ter ?" 

The  "Widder  Van"  drew  an  inward  breath 
of  relief.  If  it  was  only  Garet  who  was  to  be 
dealt  with,  she  could  rest  easy.  She  had  feared 
she  hardly  knew  what. 

"Oh !  I've  not  fully  decided.  I  shall  probably 
put  her  in  some  good  boarding-school,"  was  her 
ready  reply. 


272  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"We've  got  full's  good  schools  here  in  Stand- 
ish's  anywhere  else,  'n  I  do  want  Garet.  Won't 
you  let  her  stay  with  me  ?  I'll  take  jes'  as  good 
care  o'  her  's  I  know  how,  '11  you  needn't  be  a 
mite  afraid  but  what  she'll  be  happy.  'T won't 
cost  you  a  cent  for  her  keepin'  neither,  though  I 
don't  'spose  savin'  money's  any  object  to  you," 
with  a  comprehensive  sweep  of  her  spectacles 
around  the  lavishly  furnished  room  and  over 
the  silken  gown  and  flashing  jewels  before  her. 
"But  I  want  to  do  by  Garet  jes'  's  if  she  b'longed 
to  me,  'n  in  case  anything  happens  to  you,  Wid- 
der  Van,  I  want  you  should  give  her  to  me  for 
my  own." 

In  her  excitement,  as  well  as  her  fear,  at 
broaching  this  last  topic  Aunt  Di  let  slip,  all 
unconsciously,  the  name,  half  humorous,  half 
disdainful,  by  which  she  usually  designated  her 
neighbor.  But  Mrs.  Vandyne,  if  she  noticed, 
gave  no  heed.  Her  thoughts  were  busy  con- 
sidering from  more  points  than  one  this  propo- 
sition so  unexpected,  so  opportune.  For  the  dis- 
posal of  Garet  was  as  yet  one  of  the  unsolved 
problems  of  her  proposed  sojourn  abroad. 

All  arguments  were  favorable  to  Aunt  Diana's 
wishes.  The  schools  of  Standish  were  good, 
and  only  a  half  mile  away;  it  would  put  the 
stamp  of  good  standing  in  the  neighborhood  on 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  273 

the  Vandync  name  to  have  it  known  that  one  of 
its  possessors  was  an  inmate  of  Dr.  Strong's 
family;  and,  somehow,  beneath  all  her  inde- 
pendence and  bravado,  Lucille  Vandyne  felt 
that  the  Vandyne  name  was  not  shining  with  its 
former  lustre ;  she  herself  would  be  relieved  of 
all  responsibility  concerning  Garet ;  and  last, 
strongest  reason  of  all,  the  recollection  of  Aunt 
Di's  love-suffused  countenance  told  her  that  the 
child  would  receive  in  overflowing  measure  the 
mother-love,  sheltering,  cherishing,  brooding 
which  she  had  never  from  the  very  first  be- 
stowed upon  her.  Gay,  pleasure-loving,  self- 
indulgent,  the  tiny  daughter  given  her  by  God 
had  been  to  her  a  burden,  a  hindrance,  which  a 
certain  regard  for  the  speech  of  people  would 
not  permit  her  openly  to  abandon  ;  a  picturesque 
attachment,  beautifully  dressed,  sometimes 
petted  and  made  much  of  in  a  graceful,  charm- 
ing way  in  public ;  but  lately,  as  the  bright 
young  mind  developed,  the  keen  observant  eyes 
took  note,  and  the  sharp  little  tongue  gave  ut- 
terance to  unexpected  speech,  an  embarrassing 
comrade,  one  whom  she  was,  at  heart,  glad  to  be 
rid  of. 

Aunt  Diana  did  not  disturb  the  quiet  con- 
sideration Mrs.  Vandyne  was  giving  to  the  sub- 
ject.     She  sat  bolt  upright,  her  mitted  hands 
18 


274  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

folded  on  her  knee,  her  thrifty  brain  taking  ac- 
count of  stock  as  her  eyes  once  more  roved 
about;  she  commented  mentally  with  more  or 
less  disapproval,  generally  more,  on  all  the  signs 
of  luxurious  and,  to  her  mind,  lazy  living.  But 
her  thoughts  were  not  so  far  afield  that  they  did 
not  instantly  return  at  the  first  word  spoken  by 
Mrs.  Vandyne, 

"Are  Dr.  Strong  and  his  sister  aware  of  your 
wishes,  Mrs.  Bolton,  and  do  they  agree  to 
them  ?"  she  asked,  gravely. 

"They've  both  lived  with  me,  'n  agreed  to 
everything  I've  wanted  ever  sence  Mary  Berdel 
was  born  'n  her  mother  died.  'Tain't  likely 
they'll  begin  now  to  disagree.  Zenas  left  me 
so's  I'm  not  beholden  to  no  one  for  money,  'n 
never  will  be,  for  I  don't  trust  to  no  one  bank 
nor  inves'ment,  'n  besides  all  that,  they  both  o' 
'em  thinks  the  world  o'  Garet,  jes'  's  I  do  'n  jes' 
's  everybody  else  always  will  that  ain't  all  took 
up  with  flummy-diddles." 

Aunt  Di's  mouth  closed  with  a  snap.  She 
quaked  in  her  shoes.  Why  couldn't  she  have 
held  her  tongue  better  than  that?  But  again 
the  astute  "Widder  Van"  was  unmindful  of  any- 
thing invidious. 

"I  think,  dear  Mrs.  Bolton,"  she  said,  after 
another  long  silence,  "that  I  will  accept  your 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  '    275 

very  kind  offer  with  this  condition :  You  must 
allow  me  to  place  in  the  Standish  bank  a  sum 
ajnple  to  cover  all  Garet's  probable  and  even  pos- 
sible expenses  during  the  six  months  of  my  ab- 
sence. She  has  her  own  income  from  her  fath- 
er's estate,  and  I  know  I  ani  only  carrying  out 
his  wishes  in  insisting  upon  this  arrangement. 
Let  her  spend  the  few  remaining  days  of  my 
stay  here  with  me ;  then  you  may  have  her  until 
I  come  again — and — thank  you." 

Very  sweet  and  winning  Lucille  Vandyne 
looked  as  she  said  this  last  word,  standing  close 
in  front  of  Aunt  Diana  with  outstretched  hands 
and  swimming  eyes.  Something  of  the  girl 
Lucille  and  of  the  woman  she,  with  less  of  sel- 
fishness, might  have  become  shone  out  from  her 
beautiful  face. 

''You  poor  child !"  cried  Aunt  Di,  her  own 
features  all  aquiver  in  her  delight  and  excite- 
ment as  she  too  arose  and  looked  down  on  the 
fair  upturned  countenance.  "I  b'lieve  in  my 
soul  you  need  motherin'  every  bit's  much  's 
Garet  does  if  not  a  little  more." 

In  one  drawer  of  Mrs.  Vandyne's  desk  there 
were  a  number  of  articles  at  which  she  seldom 
looked,  of  which  she  seldom  thought.  But  on 
Mrs.  Bolton's  departure  she  took  out  the  con- 
tents of  this  drawer  and  spread  them  before  her 


276  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

on  the  desk.  One  by  one  she  carefully  regarded 
them ;  first  of  all  a  faded  photograph  of  a 
thoughtful,  care-worn  woman,  the  mother  who, 
in  straightened  circumstances  and  amid  increas- 
ing daily  labors,  had  never  failed  in  .love  or  de- 
votion to  the  beautiful  young  daughter  who  was 
her  idol,  the  one  bright  object  in  her  dull,  mo- 
notonous life.  Side  by  side  with  this  she  laid  a 
picture  of  herself  at  sixteen,  lovely  as  an  apple 
blossom,  as  dainty  and  winsome ;  a  third  picture 
was  taken  at  twenty,  in  her  bridal  dress,  when 
she  was  about  to  become  the  wife  of  the  rich 
man  of  the  world  who  had  been  captivated  by 
her  innocent  beauty,  and  who,  during  the  ten 
years  of  their  married  life,  had  denied  her  noth- 
ing that  love  and  money  could  buy.  Last  was  a 
baby  face,  her  first  born,  the  little  son  she  had 
never  mourned,  for  even  so  soon  as  that  the  at- 
tractions of  a  gay  life  of  pleasure  had  stifled 
her  better  nature. 

A  long  while  she  sat  looking  at  the  four  pic- 
tured faces.  Many  long  forgotten  scenes  were 
remembered,  days  full  of  such  delight  among 
the  flowers  and  birds  and  charms  of  a  country 
home  as  the  whole  world  could  not  bring  her 
now;  nights  of  dreamless  sleep,  when,  before 
laying  her  tired  head  on  its  pillow,  she  knelt  at 
her  mother's  knee  and  said  her  childish  prayers. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  277 

Her  eyes  wandered  to  Garet's  picture,  life 
size,  hanging  on  the  wall.  Out  from  under  the 
big  hat,  heavy  with  nodding  plumes,  looked  a 
little  thoughtful  face  with  the  same  broad  brow 
and  steadfast  clear  eyes  that  had  long  ago  bent 
to  give  her  good-night  kisses. 

"She  is  rightly  named  Margaret,"  murmured 
the  mother.  "She  is  like  Margaret  Chellis, 
thank  heaven !  and  not  like  Lucille  Vandyne." 

A  package  of  letters  lay  beside  the  pictures 
written  in  a  small,  irregular  hand.  They  were 
all  signed,  "Your  loving  mother,  Margaret 
Chellis." 

Mrs.  Vandyne  read  each  one,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  wipe  her  fast-falling  tears.  Then 
she  carefully  made  pictures  and  letters  into  one 
package,  wrapped  and  tied  it  securely,  and  ad- 
dressed it  in  a  plain  hand  to  "Margaret  Chellis 
Vandyne — Pictures  of  her  grandmother,  her 
mother  and  her  brother.  Letters  written  by 
her  grandmother  to  her  mother  during  her  early 
married  life." 

Scarcely  had  this  work  been  finished  when 
some  one  pushed  aside  the  portiers  and  stepped, 
unannounced,  into  the  room.  A  quick  move- 
ment of  her  head  brought  Mr.  Fred  Hermann 
within  her  vision. 

"Good-morning,  ma  belle !"  he  said,  coming 


278  The  Sylrcsfer  Quarry. 

to  her  side.  "What !  tears !  Wherefore  ?  Has 
the  rose-leaf  one  crumple  too  many  to-day  ? 
That  will  never,  never  do!  Come,  tell  me  the 
dismal  tale,  and  we'll  find  a  remedy." 

"What  is  the  rhyme  that  says  there  is  no  med- 
icine for  a  hurt  soul,  no  balm  for  a  mind  dis- 
eased ?"  she  asked,  closing  the  desk  and  turning 
the  key.  Her  smile  was  tremulous,  though  she 
tried  to  speak  lightly. 

Mr.  Hermann  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Don't  seek  me  for  information  on  any  such 
harrowing  themes,  I  beg.  What's  come  over 
you,  Lucille?' 

He  looked  with  some  anxiety  at  her  troubled 
face  and  reddened  eyes. 

"Oh !  I've  been  making  a  little  trip  into  the 
past,  and  half  wishing  I  could  be  the  girl  Lucille 
once  more."  Again  her  lips  quivered. 

"Stuff  and  nonsense !  I  don't  wish  you  were 
the  girl  Lucille  again  by  a  long  chalk.  She  was 
a  rare  little  beauty,  I'll  warrant,  but  no  more  to 
be  compared  to  the  Lucille  of  to-day  than  an 
apple  is  to  a  glass  of  brandy.  By  the  way,  how 
is  young  Caldwell  coming  on  ?  Is  he  up  to  the 
mark  yet?" 

"Up,"  she  repeated,  much  amused.  "All  his 
devotees  up  the  road  would  consider  'down'  a 
more  truly  fitting  word  to  use  in  describing  his 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  279 

progress,  which  is  all  even  you  could  wish.  It 
takes  less  liquor  to  affect  him  than  any  man 
I've  ever  seen." 

" That's  strange,  with  his  magnificent  phy- 
sique. I  guess  he's  only  finishing  up  what  was 
well  begun  by  some  old  ancestor  or  other  and, 
likely  enough,  carried  on  from  stage  to  stage  by 
several  others.  It's  tough  on  the  pretty  boy, 
though.  He's  got  money  enough  to  give  him  a 
life  of  it  for  years.  They  say  he's  coming  in 
next  week  for  all  old  Ben  Caldwell's  property, 
besides  a  lot  from  his  mother's  folks.  He's  a 
plum,  Lucille." 

"And  yet  you  are  silly  enough  to  be  jealous 
of  him  and  horridly  disagreeable  to  me,"  she 
said,  giving  him  a  full,  significant  look  far  more 
expressive  than  words.  When  will  you  learn  to 
trust  me,  Fred  ?  There  !  there !  be  a  good  boy 
and  tell  me  how  things  are  getting  on.  Have 
you  received  the  stock  you  were  buying  from  the 
Brooks'  ?" 

"No,  I  haven't  got  those  shares,"  he  replied, 
his  handsome  dark  face  assuming  a  business- 
like look,  "and  I  don't  know  when  I  shall. 
What's  more,  the  Brooks'  seem  to  have  gone 
abroad  for  a  thousand  years,  and  that  agent  of 
theirs  is  as  stiff  as  a  rock.  He  simply  can't  or 
won't  act  without  their  orders." 


280  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Suppose  you  commission  mo  to  act  for  you 
directly  with  them,"  she  suggested  demurely, 
yet  with  a  laughing  flash  of  the  eye. 

"By  Jove,  Lucille !  you're  a  trump  !  That's 
the  very  thing.  I  used  to  know  Tom  Brooks, 
and  if  vou  can't  get  him  in  tow  in  less  than 
twenty-four  hours,  I'm  mistaken." 

"Then  that's  settled,"  she  said.  "Matter 
number  one.  Now,  how  is  the  store  coming  on  ?" 

"Like  a  house  afire;  but  we've  run  against  an 
unexpected  snag.  Jim  Malonoy,  a  tough  cus- 
tomer on  whom  we  depended  to  lead  our  crowd 
and  to  draw  up  recuits,  has  sworn  off  for  good 
and  is  working,  tooth  and  nail,  against  us.  He's 
thick  as  hops  with  that  Scotchman  of  yours." 

lie  stopped,  struck  by  the  sudden  change  in 
Mrs.  Vandyne's  face.  An  undescribable  min- 
gling of  expressions  left  him  in  doubt  as  to 
which  one  predominated. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  he  asked,  looking 
at  her  curiously. 

A  slow  flush  was  dying  from  her  forehead, 
and  the  peculiar  set  of  her  lips  relaxed. 

"Nothing,  nothing  at  all,"  she  murmured, 
"except  perhaps  the  heat." 

She  fanned  vigorously. 

"Perhaps  you've  met  the  Graham  and  my 
prophecy  came  true,"  pursued  Mr.  Hermann. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  281 

"Did  he  get  the  better  of  you  really,  Lucille?" 
he  continued,  this  time  with  open  curiosity. 
"Let's  hear  about  it.  Come  now,  'fess  up." 

In  vain  she  tried  to  maintain  an  air  of  uncon- 
cern. The  more  effort  she  made  the  more  vividly 
did  every  circumstance  of  her  last  meeting  with 
Andy  rise  before  her.  She  turned  crimson  and 
pale  by  turns,  and  showed  so  plainly  her  dis- 
comfiture that  her  companion  finally  said,  "See 
here,  Lucille,  if  the  scoundrel  has  been  annoy- 
ing you,  he'll  pay  for  it  richly." 

"Oh !  no,  Fred,  not  at  all,"  she  managed  to 
say.  "Nothing  at  all  has  happened  ;  don't  think 
of  it  again.  Go  on  now  and  tell  me  about  Jim 
Malcney."  <» 

"Well,  he's  working  against  us  with  all  his 
might,  and  he's  one  of  those  fellows  that's  a 
power  with  his  mates  for  either  good  or  bad. 
He  and  Graham  together  are  a  team.  Then  the 
ladies  have  set  to  work.  Miss  Sylvester  and 
Mrs.  Eliot,  with  a  lot  of  foolishness  for  the  chil- 
dren, pledges  and  badges  and  meetings,  and  no 
one  knows  what  all.  They  think  they're  going 
to  head  us  off,  and  I  suppose  some  fools  will 
think  it  smart  to  drink  nothing  stronger  than 
milk  tea;  but  when  the  facts  are  all  known  it's 
going  to  take  more  than  a  parcel  of  men  and 
women  to  get  around  Mac  Caldwell's  being 


282  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

ruined  by  liquor  right  here  in  the  midst  of  the 
tee-totalers." 

Lucille  arose,  a  low,  irrespressible  exclama- 
tion on  her  lips. 

"You  can't  guess  who's  been  to  call  on  me  to- 
day, Fred,"  she  said,  with  a  swift  assumption 
of  the  confidential,  almost  caressing  tone,  she 
often  used  when  making  a  complete  change  of 
subject. 

"There  you  go  again,  off  like  thistledown!" 
Mr.  Hermann  grumbled.  "I  thought  we  were 
talking  business." 

"You  were,  and  I  was  listening,"  she  retorted 
sweetly.  "Now  I  am  asking  you  a  questton." 

"Oh !  how  can  I  tell  ?"  He  was  still  cross. 
"Andy  Graham." 

For  an  instant  her  eyes  dilated  as  though  he 
really  were  before  her. 

"jSTo,  guess  again,"  she  cried,  after  the  slight- 
est possible  hesitation.  "Well,  I'll  tell  you.  Mrs. 
Bolton." 

"Who  in  the  world  is  she  ?" 

"Dr.  Strong's  aunt  and  housekeeper.  Garet 
is  to  become  an  inmate  of  their  family  during 
my  absence  abroad,  and  will  attend  the  Stand- 
ish  school." 

Mr.  Hermann  eyed  her  in  silence,  then  broke 
into  a  ringing  laugh. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  283 

"You'll  be  the  senior  member  of  the  firm  be- 
fore you're  in  it  a  week !"  he  exclaimed.  "I'm 
proud  of  you,  Lucille,  upon  my  word.  What  a 
stroke  of  policy  and  diplomacy  and  tact  and 
everything  else  !  How  on  earth  did  you  manage 
this?" 

"I  didn't  manage  it  at  all.  Garet  did  it. 
Garet  and  gram'thur,  and  it  is  one  of  the  secrets 
you  are  not  to  inquire  into  now — or  ever.  But 
I  wanted  you  to  know  the  fact." 

"Mystery  on  mystery !"  he  ejaculated.  "An- 
drew and  Diana  seem  to  be  a  capable  pair.  I 
begin  to  fear  that  they  will  spirit  you  away  from 
me  one  of  these  days." 

"It  would  be  a  queer  thing,  wouldn't  it  ?"  she 
answered  with  an  odd  smile.  "There's  the  tea 
bell.  Come  out  and  have  something  to  eat." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  CREEPING  SHADOW. 

WHAT  shall  we  do  for  Mac's  birthday 
day  after  to-morrow,  Keith?"  !M  iss 
Janet  asked  a  few  evenings  after  their  return 
home.  They  had  been  at  the  chapel  and  were 
walking  slowly  homeward  in  the  moonlight. 

"What  can  we  do,  Jeanie?  It  is  not  likely 
that  he  will  spend  any  part  of  it  at  home  or  with 
us." 

"Well,  he  ought  to,"  said  she  with  an  un- 
wonted show  of  spirit,  "If  his  whole  family 
and  ours  together  can't  outweigh  in  attraction, 
for  an  hour  or  two,  at  least,  that — that  woman, 
I  think  it's  a  pity.  Sometimes  I  feel  as  though 
I  never  can  forgive  her,  never — ever,  Keith." 

"Don't  judge  her  too  harshly,  Jeanie,"  Keith 
cautioned.  "She  is  but  one  factor  in  the  dark 
problem.  If  she  had  not  been  here,  the  tempta- 
tion before  which  our  dear  boy  falls  so  easily 
would  have  come  to  him  in  some  other  form. 
The  marvel  to  me  is  that  he  ever  got  through 
college  unscathed.  But  Mr.  Standish  has  been 
telling  me  the  history  of  his  grandfather,  a 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  285 

splendid  man,  a  noble  character,  ruined  by  hard 
drinking.  It  is  another  case  of  the  sins  of  the 
father  being  visited  on  the  children  to  the  third 
and  fourth  generations.  Mac's  nature  is  re- 
fined, and  has  not  been  attracted  by  the  coarser 
forms  of  evil,  but  the  charms  of  a  woman  whom 
he  believed  to  be  as  good  as  she  is  beautful  have 
ensnared  him.  Now  he  finds  himself  unexpect- 
edly and,  I  doubt  not,  to  his  grief  and  dismay, 
in  the  clutches  of  heredity." 

"And~tnust  he  be  left  there  ?"  Janet  asked  in 
some  heat.  "If  he  had  fallen  into  the  fire,  you 
would  snatch  him  out  instantly." 

Keith  sighed. 

"True  enough.  But  from  this  calamity  he 
cannot  be  dragged  bodily.  I  have  seen  Mac 
once  since  our  return,  and  made  the  effort  on 
several  other  occasions.  He  simply  refuses  to 
discuss  the  matter  in  any  light  whatever.  Since 
the  evening  in  New  York,  when  I  found  him 
under  the  influence  of  liquor,  he  treats  me  like 
a  stranger.  I  think  he  is  cut  to  the  heart  with 
shame,  but  too  deeply  under  evil  influences  to 
free  himself.  Naturally,  any  meeting  with  us 
is  so  painful  that  he  avoids  it." 

"Well,  I  am  going  to  send  for  him  to  come 
over  to-morrow  to  see  me.  And  if  he  declines, 
I  shall  go  to  see  him.  It's  all  nonsense  about  his 


286  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

not  wishing  any  of  us  to  come  near  him  with 
due  respect  to  you  at  the  same  time,  my  good 
cousin !" 

"I  hope  you  will  try  to  do  nothing  of  the 
kind,  Jeanie.  You  will  only  suffer  for  it.  Mac 
is  not  himself ;  the  man  he  has  become  cannot  be 
reckoned  on  or  judged  of  as  our  Mac  has 
been." 

She  made  no  answer  to  this.  Soon,  in  an- 
other tone,  he  said,  "Jeanie>,  how  is  Louise 
bearing  all  this  ?" 

"Much  more  bravely  than  I  expected,  ^;riolet 
is  the  one  who  droops." 

"I  have  feared  much  for  Louise,"  he  went 
on,  apparently  unheeding  her  last  remark.  "Her 
life  has  been  so  bound  up  in  Mac's  for  the  last 
five  years  that  a  blow  to  one  is  sure  to  wound 
the  other.  I  can  be  patient  with  him  except 
when  I  think  of  the  pain  his  conduct  is  caus- 
ing her.  That  unmans  me." 

Something  in  the  way  he  spoke  the  last  three 
words  was  like  a  flash  of  vivid  lightning  over  a 
storm-beaten  landscape.  In  an  instant's  space 
a  thousand  little  details  of  Keith's  life  during 
the  last  five  years  emerged  from  the  shadows  of 
forgetfulness  into  the  brilliant  light  of  compre- 
hension. She  saw  what  she  had  not  hitherto 
even  suspected. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  287 

"O  Keith!"  was  all  she  said,  but  he  under- 
stood. 

"Yes,  Jeanie;  Louise  is  my  whole  earthly 
world  and  life." 

"Does  she  know  ?"  was  her  question,  spoken 
almost  before  she  knew  it.  "Forgive  me,  dear, 
I  should  not  have  asked  you  that." 

"I  don't  mind.  It  is  a  relief  to  speak  freely 
with  you.  No,  she  does  not  know  and  never  will, 
for  her  heart  belongs  to  Mac." 

Xow  the  lightning  flash  which  revealed  so 
much  of  Keith  to  Miss  Janet  had  also  made 
clear  to  her  a  number  of  things  concerning 
Louise,  and  she  did  not  fully  share  his  opinion. 
But  she  was  discreet  as  well  as  wise. 

"That  may  be  or  may  not  be.  Louise,  with 
all  her  frankness,  does  not  wear  her  heart  on 
her  sleeve.  I  have  sometimes  thought  the  very 
openness  of  her  affection  for  Mac  a  sign  of  its 
sisterly  nature." 

"Don't  try  to  comfort  me  with  false  hopes, 
Jeanie.  I  have  been  over  the  whole  matter 
thousands  of  times,  I  suppose,  and  never  been 
able  to  find  the  smallest  ground  of  belief  that 
she  cares  for  any  one  besides  Mac.  So  I've 
tried  to  do  the  right  thing,  and,  setting  myself 
entirely  aside,  to  take  a  subordinate  place.  But 
I  think  sometimes  the  only  way  will  be  for  me 


288  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

to  go  away.  It  is  too  much  to  expect  of  mortal 
man  to  see  the  one  woman  of  the  whole  world 
always  before  him  and  belonging  to  another. 
You  will  doubtless  say  that  when  I  knew  she 
belonged  to  Mac,  I  shouldn't  have  allowed  my- 
self to  love  her.  The  truth  is,  the  mischief  was 
done  before  I  dreamed  of  it." 

"It  seems  so  strange  to  me,  Keith.  Our  little 
Louise  !  Why,  it  is  but  a  day  since  she  ran  over 
here  that  morning  and  went  off  in  one  of  her 
jealous  furors  because  she  found  you  here  and 
feared  I  would  love  you  better  than  I  did  her. 
Do  you  remember  ?" 

"Do  I  remember  ?  Ivather  ask  do  I  forget 
one  word  or  act  of  her  dear  lovely  self  from  the 
days  of  her  charming  girlhood  all  the  way  to 
the  beautiful  years  of  her  perfect  womanhood." 

Janet  smiled  to  herself.  Keith  as  a  lover  was 
indeed  a  revelation. 

The  next  morning,  true  to  her  resolution,  she 
wrote  her  note  to  Mac.  It  brought  this  answer : 

"Your  kind  invitation  is  just  read,  Auntie 
Jean.  You  know,  doubtless,  that  I  am  going 
abroad  for  the  winter  with  Mrs.  Vandyne's 
party,  five  besides  myself.  We  are  starting 
several  days  earlier  than  we  expected.  In  fact, 
we  leave  Standish  to-morrow  immediately  after 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  289 

the  necessary  business  formalities  with  my  uncle 
in  the  morning.  I  shall  run  over  for  a  good-bye 
at  both  homes  before  going  to  the  lawyer's  office. 
I  know  you  all  are  disappointed  at  not  having  a 
big  blow  out  on  my  twenty-first  birthday.  You 
are  disappointed  in  other  ways,  too.  But  re- 
member one  thing,  dear  Auntie  Jean,  never  so 
long  as  life  lasts  will  your  love  and  heavenly 
goodness  be  forgotten  by  your 
"Wayward 


Janet  cried  herself  nearly  sick  over  this  brief 
letter.  Keith  was  right,  after  all.  She  tried  to 
be  natural  and  bright  when  the  real  farewell 
came  next  morning.  Keith,  with  Violet,  Hilda 
and  herself,  was  on  the  porch.  They  saw  Mac 
coming  across  the  lawn  and  rose  to  greet  him. 
Keith  noticed  at  once  his  unnaturally  brilliant 
eyes  and  the  exaggerated  gaiety  of  manner  with 
which  he  was  evidently  trying  to  conceal  his 
embarrassment. 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Keith,"  he  cried,  grasping 
Keith's  outstretched  hand  and  scarcely  noticing 
his  low-spoken  "God  keep  you,  Mac." 

He  allowed  Janet  to  throw  her  arms  about  his 

neck  and  pull  his  head  down  for  a  good-bye  kiss 

without  a  word.     Hilda,  he  tossed  high  in  the 

air  with  a  kiss  on  each  rosy  cheek.     Violet's 

19 


290  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

hands  were  held  close  in  his  own  for  an  instant. 
''Good-bye,  dear,"  he  murmured. 

A  long  wistful  look  was  her  only  farewell. 

The  next  few  weeks  passed  heavily  enough  at 
both  homes  where  Mac  had  been  so  loved  an  in- 
mate. He  was  thought  of  and  spoken  of  con- 
tinually by  every  one  but  ^'riolet,  who  never  men- 
tioned his  name.  They  followed  his  ship  in  its 
course  eastward  and,  when  sufficient  time  had 
passed,  began  watching  the  mails  for  a  letter. 
At,  least,  Mr.  Standish,  Louise  and  Janet  did 
so.  It  appeared  incredible  to  them,  in  spite  of 
all  that  had  occurred,  that  Mac  could  be  wholly 
indifferent  to  his  home.  But  days  and  weeks 
passed,  bringing  no  message  from  the  wanderer. 

As  winter  approached  further  plans  for  in- 
creased work  at  the  Chapel  and  in  Sylvester 
were  made.  Miss  Janet  and  Mrs.  Eliot,  Keith 
and  Louise  were  thoroughly  absorbed  in  these. 
Much  of  their  time  was  spent  away  from  home, 
and  so  it  happened,  naturally  enough,  that  Vio- 
let was  left  alone.  She,  too,  was  interested  in 
the  temperance  work,  deeply  so;  but  there  were 
many  days  when  she  felt  physically  unequal  to 
the  walk  up  the  mountain  side  or  to  the  activity 
required  of  her  after  reaching  the  village.  She 
made  one  excuse  or  another,  and  finally  seldom 
accompanied  the  others.  Instead,  when  the 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  291 

days  were  fine,  she  walked  along  the  level  road 
towards  Standish,  stopping  in  to  see  Berdel  for 
an  hour  or  so.  These  visits  became  more  and 
more  frequent,  until  it  happened  that  when  Dr. 
Strong  came  in  at  midday,  as  occasionally  oc- 
curred, his  first  glance  was  towards  a  low  reclin- 
ing chair  near  Berdel's  couch,  where  he  was 
pretty  sure  to  see  a  slight  figure  whose  every 
graceful  line  he  loved.  Often  his  sister's  raised 
finger  warned  him  that  Violet  was  sleeping.  At 
such  times  he  stole  long,  hungry  looks  at  the 
sweet  face,  and  his  heart  ached  to  see  its  lovely 
outlines  growing  sharper  as  the  weeks  went  on. 
On  other  days  the  large  blue  eyes  would  look 
wearily  up  at  him  and  a  faint  smile  gave  him 
welcome.  Rare  it  was  to  meet  the  bright,  win- 
some Violet,  whose  girlish  gaiety,  mingled  with 
womanly  dignity,  had  so  charmed  him  from  his 
first  sight  of  her.  She  never  complained,  never 
spoke  of  herself  in  any  way,  was  always  gentle, 
thougthful,  unselfish,  and  it  was  long  before  her 
friends  noticed  the  frailness  which  had  so  soon 
given  her  lover  keen  anxiety. 

One  day  she  arrived  at  the  Strong  cottage 
much  later  than  usual,  coming  in  softly  in  the 
midst  of  the  customary  after  supper  violin  play- 
ing. 

"I  hoped  I  shouldn't  miss  it,"  she  said,  slip- 


292  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

ping  off  her  jacket  and  stepping  across  to  the 
low  chair.  "Please  go  on." 

"Do  yon  mean  the  music  ?"  asked  Berdel. 

"Yes." 

"Then  why  have  you  never  asked  me  to 
play  for  you  ?"  asked  the  doctor,  somewhat 
brusquely. 

"Oh  !  I  thought  you  might  be  busy  or  it  might 
disturb  Miss  Berdel;  but  I  knew  you  always 
play  to  her  at  this  time,  and  I  asked  James  to 
stop  for  me  on  his  way  home  from  Standish  in 
an  hour  or  so.  Xow,  please,  don't  let  me  inter- 
rupt you  longer." 

She  lay  back  in  her  chair.  Soon  the  clear, 
beautiful  tones  of  Dr.  Strong's  fine  instrument 
filled  the  room,  and  all  the  love  and  longing  of 
his  heart  throbbed  in  the  exquisite  strains.  He 
played  on  and  on  until  the  ringing  of  the  door- 
bell and  the  sound  of  James'  voice  broke  the 
spell. 

"Don't  go  yet,  Miss  Violet,  if  you  care  to  stay 
longer.  I'm  going  up  the  mountain  in  half  an 
hour.  Let  me  send  a  message  home." 

"Yes,  if  you  please.  I  would  rather  go  with 
you,"  she  assented. 

But  the  charm  of  the  evening  was  gone.  After 
a  few  minutes  the  violin  was  put  away,  and  the 
doctor  went  off  to  prepare  some  medicine. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  203 

"How's  Garct  getting  on,  Miss  Berdel  ?"  Vio- 
let asked,  being  reminded  of  her  by  the  hum  of 
her  voice  in  the  next  room. 

"As  happily  as  possible.  She  had  a  long  let- 
ter from  her  mother  to-day,  with  promise  of  a 
Christmas  box  next  week." 

Violet  turned  her  head  away  to  hide  the  rush 
of  color  she  felt  in  her  cheeks,  but  she  made  no 
comment. 

"Mrs.  Vandvne  writes  a  delightful  letter," 
Berdel  went  on.  "Come  to-morrow,  and  I'll  ask 
Garet  to  let  you  read  it." 

"Thank  you,  dear  Miss  Berdel;  I'll  come  to 
see  you,  but  I'd  rather  not  read  the  letter." 

On  the  homeward  drive,  a  little  later,  Dr. 
Strong  asked,  "Where  is  Keith  to-night,  Miss 
Violet?" 

"At  the  chapel ;  it  is  Thursday,  you  know." 

"Ah!  yes.  And  you  did  not  care  to  attend 
prayer-meeting  ?" 

"I  don't  go  often  now.  I  get  so  tired  sitting 
still  all  the  evening  after  the  walk  up  there.  So 
I  thought  I'd  come  over  to-night  and  have  a  little 
prayer-meeting  of  my  own  with  you  for  the 
choir.  You  don't  mind  my  lying  down  in  that 
lovely  chair,  you  see!" 

It  was  some  minutes  before  he  replied. 

"How  would  you  like  to  come  over  and  pay  us 


204  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

a  visit  of  two  or  three  weeks  ?"  was  his  unex- 
pected and  surprising  question.  "Then  you 
could  enjoy  the  chair  and  the  music,  and  if 
you're  very  good,  I'll  take  you  off  with  me  on 
all  sorts  of  pleasant  drives." 

He  heard  her  catch  her  breath  with  a  little 
sob,  instantly  stilled. 

"I'd  like  to  very,  very  much,  Dr.  Strong, 
thank  you,  but  I'm  afraid  I'd  be  in  Miss  Ber- 
del's  way.  Garet  is  there,  you  know." 

"Now,  Miss  Violet,"  he  began,  with  alarm- 
ing gruffness,  "from  this  minute  you  are  my 
patient  and  bound  to  obey  your 'doctor.  And 
my  very  first  order  is  this :  Be  good  enough,  for 
once  in  your  life,  to  think  first  of  Violet  Sylves- 
ter, and  last  of  everybody  else.  If  you  wish  to 
come,  that  settles  it,  and  I'll  vouch  for  a  warm 
welcome  from  everybody  under  my  roof.  Don't 
you  know,  child,  that  we  all — love  you" — his 
voice  broke  for  a  second— "and  that  it  will 
make  us  very  happy  to  have  a  visit  from  you  ? 
Only  say  the  word,  and  I'll  turn  my  horse 
around  and  it  shall  begin  to-night.  I'm  going 
to  let  you  have  your  own  sweet  way.  Maybe 
you've  heard  of  the  man  who  said  that  his  wife 
always  did  as  she  pleased,  and  when  she  didn't 
he  made  her.  You  may  consider  yourself  in  a 
similar  position  now,  and,  mind  you,  madamoi- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  295 

selle,  I'm  a  masterful  man ;   even  Aunt  Di  will 
testify  to  that." 

"Are  you  through  ?"  asked  Violet,  laughing 
softly  as  he  had  not  heard  her  for  weeks.  "Be- 
cause if  you  are,  I  think  perhaps  you'd  like  to 
know  that  we  passed  our  gate  some  time  ago. 
I  didn't  dare  to  interrupt  such  a  masterful 
man." 

The  doctor  blushed  in  the  darkness,  but  he 
was  too  glad  to  have  aroused  her  from  her  in- 
difference to  what  was  going  on  around  her  to 
care  for  her  chaffing. 

The  next  day  the  neighbor  on  the  north 
"moved  over"  to  the  Strong's  pleasant  home. 
Garet  was  in  a  high  state  of  excitement  and  de- 
light, 

"It's  per'fly  lovely  of  you  to  come,  Miss  Vio- 
let," she  chatted  away,  helping  Violet  arrange 
her  things  about  the  room.  "You  don't  know 
yet  how  comf'ble  everything  is  in  this  house. 
All  the  chairs  are  as  soft  as  anything,  and 
there's  lots  of  sofas.  Gram'thur's  room  opens 
right  out  of  mine,  and  it's  only  'cross  the  hall 
from  yours.  So  'f  you  have  bad  dreams  in  the 
night,  all  you've  got  to  do  when  you  wake  up 
afraid  is  to  call  out,  'Gram'thur !'  and  she's 
there  all  comforty  and  nice." 

"Does  'gram'thur'  lie  awake  the  whole  night, 


296  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Garet,  waiting  to  hear  you  call  ?"  asked  Violet, 
teasingly. 

"Oh !  no,"  was  the  child's  serious  response. 
"But  gram'thurs  can  hear  quick  as  anything  in 
their  sleep.  Did  you  ever  have  one,  Miss  Vio- 
let ?" 

"A  grandmother  ?  Oh  !  yes,  dear — two  of 
them.  One  I  hardly  remember,  the  other  lived 
until  I  was  a  large  girl.  She  was  as  dear  as  she 
could  be." 

"I'm  so  glad  you  know  all  about  them,"  de- 
clared Garet,  snuggling  up  beside  Violet  with  a 
long,  happy  sigh.  "  'Cause  I  never  in  the  world 
could  'splain  to  you  all  'bout  them,  and  it's  so 
much  nicer  if  you  understand.  I  love  my  gram'- 
thur  so  much  sometimes  my  heart  gets  as  tight 
as — oh !  as  anything." 

Violet  gave  her  a  gentle  hug. 

"That's  a  pity,  dear.  Your  little  heart 
shouldn't  ache.  Suppose  you  let  some  of  the 
love  run  over  to  me;  and,  Garet,  I'd  like  it  so 
much  better  if  you'd  call  me  just  Violet  and 
only  miss  me  when  I  go  away." 

For  a  moment  Garet  considered  this  gravely. 
Then  a  flash  of  comprehension  illumined  her 
her  face,  and  she  laughed  in  high  glee. 

"Only  miss  you  when  you  go  away.  Isn't 
that  funny  ?  But  mamma  told  me  it  isn't  polite 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  207 

to  call  ladies  by  their  names."  She  began  to 
look  anxious. 

"Your  mamma  is  quite  right,  Garet,  unless 
you  and  the  lady  happen  to  love  each  other 
dearly.  Then  it's  different.  Don't  you  see  ?" 

"Oh!  yes,"  cried  Garet.  "Now,  I've  got  an- 
other lover!  Gram'thur's  one,  Miss  Bird  L.  is 
two,  Dr.  John  B.'s  three,  and  you're  four. 
Isn't  that  beau'ful  ?" 

"I  think  you  are  the  lover,  you  funny  child," 
said  Violet,  laughing. 

Dr.  Strong  was  right  when  he  said  that  every 
member  of  his  family  would  welcome  Violet. 
Each  in  their  different  way  did  her  good. 

There  were  pleasant  mornings-  with  Aunt  Di, 
whose  blunt  speech  and  pungent  remarks  were 
always  amusing  to  the  girl  who  helped  her  in 
the  sweet-smelling  pantry,  followed  her  to  the 
capacious,  delightful  garret,  sat  beside  her  while 
mending  was  in  progress,  and  listened,  with 
never-ending  enjoyment,  to  her  ceaseless  flow  of 
reminiscence. 

There  were  beautiful  hours  with  Berdel  when 
the  two  talked  of  things  heavenly  or  read  aloud 
to  each  other  the  best  of  books  earthly. 

There  were  all  sorts  of  odd  times  when,  with 
Garet  for  a  chatty,  quaint,  adoring  companion, 
the  time  fairly  flew. 


298  The  Sylvester  Quarri/. 

There  were  the  promised  rides  with  Dr. 
Strong  when  all  the  treasures  of  his  well-stored 
mind  were  drawn  upon  for  her  entertainment, 
and  when  his  genial,  humorous,  sympathetic 
comaraderie  brought  out  the  old  light-hearted 
Violet  as  nothing  else  now  did. 

There  were  daily  visits  from  all  the  dear  home 
people,  full  of  bright  chatter  and  loving  interest. 

"Don't  tell  her  a  single  dismal  thing,"  Dr. 
Strong  had  warned  Janet  when  he  explained  to 
her  that  he  thought  a  change  of  scene  would  be 
desirable  for  Violet.  "Don't  let  her  see  that 
you  are  anxious  about  her  or  sorry  for  her.  Her 
tender  heart  has  been  hurt  cruelly,  and  she 
hides  it  away  with  true  womanly  pride.  The 
wound  is  a  deep  one,  but,  please  God,  not  to  the 
death." 

The  doctor's  face  was  white  and  set  when  he 
spoke  these  few  words,  whose  meaning  Janet 
understood,  without  any  suspicion  of  his  own 
suffering. 

So  they  came  often,  one  and  another,  or  all 
of  them,  to  see  Violet.  She  always  was  glad  to 
have  them  with  her.  In  the  quiet  way  which 
had  grown  habitual  she  entertained  them  when 
she  felt  strong  enough ;  at  other  times  she  lay 
on  her  couch  and  listened  to  their  bits  of  news, 
especially  in  regard  to  the  work  at  the  chapel. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  299 

But  best  and  sweetest  of  all  to  her  were  the 
after-supper  hours,  when  Aunt  Di  and  Garet 
were  busy  over  her  lessons,  leaving  Berdel  and 
herself  to  listen  to  the  doctor's  music.  Formerly 
it  had  frequently  happened  that  this  time  was 
broken  into  by  calls.  But  now  the  maid  had 
orders  never  to  disturb  him  unless  an  emer- 
gency of  life  and  death  required  his  presence. 
So  there  was  seldom  an  evening  when  Violet  did 
not  lie  among  her  pillows  and  find  her  aching 
heart  soothed  inexplicably.  For  all  her  grief 
and  hopeless  longing,  her  love  and  her  despair 
found  expression  in  the  melodies  poured  forth 
from  a  soul  suffering  even  as  she  did.  In  a 
way  of  which  she  little  dreamed  her  very  inmost 
self  was  being  interpreted  by  the  spirit  speaking 
through  the  violin. 

This  passionate  outpouring  in  music  of  his 
love  for  her  was  the  doctor's  only  indulgence. 
At  all  other  times  his  secret  was  sternly  locked 
within  his  breast. 

"Some  day,  if  it  be  God's  will,"  he  had  told 
himself,  "when  time  has  wrought  its  blessed 
healing,  I  will  speak.  Until  then  it  shall  be  the 
first  duty  of  my  life,  God  helping  me,  to  bring 
her  up,  body  and  spirit,  from  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death  into  which  she  has  been  cast." 


300  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

How  well  he  kept  his  resolution,  how  beauti- 
ful and  true  a  friend  he  showed  himself,  how 
constant  and  unswerving  was  the  devotion  which 
cared  for  Violet  as  a  mother  cares  for  her  suffer- 
ing child,  only  the  history  of  those  weeks  could 
tell ;  at  what  cost  to  himself  God  alone  knew. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

IN  THE  CHAPEL,. 

/CHRISTMAS  passed  very  quietly  both  at 
V_y  Little  Acorns  and  Standish  Hall,  Hilda's 
Christmas  tree,  to  which  Garet  was  invited,  be- 
ing the  only  festivity.  A  large  entertainment 
for  the  Quarry  children  was  given  at  the  chapel, 
and  into  this  every  member  of  both  families  put 
all  their  energies,  as  though  striving  to  bring 
forgetfulness  of  the  empty  places  at  home  and 
the  reason  for  them. 

Caret's  box  arrived  in  good  season,  and  never 
was  happier  child  than  she  as  she  distributed 
the  pretty  gifts  it  contained. 

"There  isn't  anything  for  you,  my  sweet  Vio- 
let," she  said,  stealing  into  Violet's  room  very 
early  in  the  morning,  "because,  you  see,  Mamma 
didn't  know  that  you'd  be  invited  to  come;  but 
I'm  going  to  give  you  this  bottle  of  perfumery 
because  it  has  your  name  on  it.  See,  'Sweet 
Violet,'  and  that's  the  name  I  call  you  by. 
You'll  use  some  on  your  hank'chi'f  every  day, 
won't  you  ?" 

"To  be  sure  I  will,  and  I'll  give  you  a  loving 


302  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

thought  every  time,  too.  It's  very  nice  of  yon 
to  share  your  pretty  things  with  me,  Garet." 

"Well,  you  know,  the  holy  Bible  says  it  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.  There's  a 
lot  of  blesseds,  don't  you  think  so,  my  sweet  Vio- 
let?" 

"I  do,  indeed,  you  blessed  child;  and  I  think 
we'd  all  be  happier  and  better  if  we  lived  by  our 
Bibles  as  literally  as  you  do." 

Garet  did  not  understand  this,  but  she  asked 
no  questions.  In  some  strange  way  her  loving 
little  heart  divined  that  Violet  was  unhappy, 
and  she  went  quietly  to  her  bureau  drawer  to 
look  over  her  box  of  text  cards. 

"Maybe  I'll  find  a  real  beautiful  one,"  she 
thought.  Before  long  her  search  came  to  an  end, 
and  she  went  back  to  Violet. 

"Do  you  know  this  blessed,  my  sweet  Violet : 
'Blessed  are  they  that  mourn,  for  they  shall  be 
comf'rted'  ?  I  'spose  that  means  the  way  gram'- 
thur  comf'rts  me  in  the  night  when  I'm  all  alone 
in  the  dark,  don't  you  ?" 

Violet  could  not  answer.  The  tears,  which  so 
rarely  came  to  her  eyes,  had  overflowed,  and 
she  lay  sobbing  bitterly.  Garet,  awed  and  dis- 
tressed by  the  sight,  tipped  over  to  Aunt  Di's 
room. 

"O   gram'thur!"    she    whispered,    "my    dear 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  303 

sweet  Violet  feels  dref'fly.  Won't  you  please  go 
in  and  cornf'rt  her,  same's  you  do  me  ?" 

A  natural  instinct  of  delicacy  kept  her  from 
following  Aunt  Di  into  the  room,  but  she  sat 
down  on  the  top  step  outside,  feeling  "dref'fly" 
herself. 

Violet  did  not  hear  Aunt  Diana's  approach, 
but  she  felt  herself  drawn  close  in  a  motherly 
embrace,  and  hushed  and  soothed  as  though  she 
were  again  a  very  little  child. 

"Cry  all  you  want  to,  you  poor  lamb!  'twill 
do  you  lots  o'  good.  Don't  you  try  to  keep  one 
single  tear  back,  bless  your  dear  heart!  Tears 
were  made  to  take  the  ache  away  out  o'  a 
woman's  breast.  Aunt  Diana  knows  if  she  is  a 
grumpy  old  thing  now.  She  knows  jes'  how 
hard  it  is  to  keep  up  chirk  'n  lively  afore  folks. 
So  you  jes'  let  them  tears  come  'n  you'll  feel  all 
the  better  for't.  There's  some  things  can't  be 
spoke  about,  'n  it's  best  not  to,  too;  but  when 
your  poor  heart  gets  too  full,  jes'  you  come  'n 
lay  your  head  down  here  'n  you  needn't  say  a 
word.  Aunt  Diana  knows  'n  understands,  you 
poor  little  greevin'  lamb !" 

After  a  little  she  shook  up  and  turned  the 
pillows,  straightened  the  covering  and,  dropping 
a  kiss  on  Violet's  forehead,  stole  softly  away, 
closing  the  door  behind  her. 


804  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"You  settin'  here  all  this  time?"  she  de- 
manded, in  surprise,  of  the  motionless  Garet. 
"Well,  run  away  now  and  get  ready  for  break- 
fast, 'n  be  still  's  a  mouse,  for  your  sweet  Vio- 
let's  goin'  to  have  another  nap,  'n  she'll  feel  bet- 
ter when  she  wakes  up." 

She  set  her  lips  hard  as  she  re-entered  her  own 
room. 

"Diana  Bolton,"  she  stated  oracularly  to  that 
worthy  lady,  "ef  you  ain't  a-gettin'  to  be  a  mug- 
wump, or  whatever  them  politicians  is  called 
that  straddles  a  fence,  I'll  give  it  up.  Here  you 
be  a  feelin'  sorry  for  that  little  witchin'  thing  of 
a  Widder  Van  an'  want-in'  to  take  her  under 
your  wing  when  she  looks  up  at  you  so  sorrow- 
ful— an'  then  agen,  when  you  see  this  poor, 
lovin'  girl  breakin'  her  heart  all  on  account  o' 
that  beguilin'  woman's  ensnarin'  of  MacDonald 
Caldwell,  you're  jes'  achin'  'n  squirmin'  to  get 
hold  o'  her  'n  give  her  the  all  mightiest  shakin', 
by  her  two  shoulders,  a  deservin'  sinner  ever  had 
in  this  world  or  the  next.  Ef  that  ain't  bein'  on 
both  sides  o'  the  fence  at  once,  I'd  like  to  have 
you  tell  me  what  is.  'N  I  always  did  despise  a 
straddler  wuss  'n  pussley !" 

Aunt  Diana  was  right.  Violet  came  down  to 
breakfast  looking  brighter  than  at  any  time 
since  Mac  went  away.  The  strain  of  a  repressed 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  305 

grief  had  been  broken  by  the  sympathy  of  a 
wise,  loving  heart  From  Aunt  Diana  the  girl 
had  taken  what  she  could  have  endured  from  no 
our  else,  and  the  sleep  into  which  she  had  fallen 
almost  before  she  was  alone  was  the  first  for  a 
long  time  which  had  really  refreshed  her;  so 
she  looked  quite  like  herself  as  she  wished  Ber- 
del  a  merry  Christmas. 

At  her  plate  she  found  a  beautiful  little  bunch 
of  holly. 

"That  conies  straight  to  you,  Miss  Violet, 
from  the  prettiest  tree  on  the  whole  mountain 
side,"  said  Dr.  Strong,  entering  the  room  at  the 
moment,  fresh  and  rosy  from  an  early  ride. 
"I'm  going  to  take  you  and  Berdel  both  up  to 
see  it  after  breakfast.  Yes,  and  you,  too,  Puss- 
in-boots,  so  you  can  eat  your  breakfast  in  peace 
instead  of  looking  as  though  you'd  like  to  eat 
me." 

"Sho,  Dr.  John  B. !"  exclaimed  Garet,  so  pre- 
cisely like  Aunt  Diana  that  even  she  had  to 
laugh. 

The  doctor  was  in  high  spirits.  His  practiced 
eye  had  been  swift  to  see  the  change  in  Violet, 
and  his  heart  bounded  with  joy. 

"Have  you  been  away  up  there  already  this 
morning,.  Doctor  ?    What  a  shame  that  you  must 
be  routed  out  so  ruthlessly,"  sympathized  Violet, 
30 


306  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"It  is  almost  a  hardship  to  get  started  some- 
times, I'll  admit,  but  this  morning's  ride  was  a 
delight  I  would  not  have  missed.  I  was  con- 
tinually reminded  of  the  beautiful  words  of  the 
one  hundred  and  forty-seventh  Psalm.  Bring 
me  the  Bible,  Gay,  and  I'll  read  it  for  our  morn- 
ing lesson." 

"  'Praise  ye  the  Lord,  for  it  is  good  to  sing 
praises  unto  our  God;  for  it  is  pleasant;  and 
praise  is  comely. 

"  'The  Lord  doth  build  up  Jerusalem ;  he 
gathereth  together  the  outcasts  of  Israel.' ' 

Here  Aunt  Diana  looked  fondly  down  at 
Garet,  who  was  drinking  in  every  word. 

"Poor  little  outcast;  the  Lord  has  surely 
gathered  her  in,"  she  said  to  herself. 

"  'He  healeth  the  broken  in  heart  and  bind- 
eth  up  their  wounds.'  ' 

Violet  was  startled  to  hear  again,  in  different 
phrase,  the  "blessed"  Garet  had  brought  for  her 
consolation.  It  seemed  like  a  message  sent 
straight  to  her  need,  for  which  she  uplifted  a 
silent  thanksgiving.  The  next  words  she  heeded 
were  these,  "He  giveth  snow  like  wool ;  he  scat- 
tereth  the  hoarfrost  like  ashes.  He  casteth  forth 
his  ice  like  morsels;  who  can  stand  before  his 
cold  ?  He  sendeth  out  his  word  and  melteth 
them ;  he  causeth  his  wind  to  blow  and  the  waters 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  307 

flow.  He  sheweth  his  word  unto  Jacob;  his 
statutes  and  his  judgments  unto  Israel.  He 
hath  not  dealt  so  with  any  nation ;  and  as  for  his 
judgments,  they  have  not  known  them.  Praise 
ye  the  Lord." 

While  they  were  still  eating  breakfast  a 
sleigh  dashed  up  to  the  door,  bringing  Keith, 
Janet  and  Louise  laden  with  parcels. 

"Merry  Christmas,  everybody !"  cried  Louise, 
coming  in  first.  "Oh!  you  darling;  how  well 
you  look.  Doesn't  she,  Auntie  Jean  ?  What- 
ever have  you  been  doing  to  her,  Dr.  Strong?" 

"Oh !  they  are  all  so  good  to  me  I'm  simply 
ashamed  to  lie  around  and  be  so  lazy,"  answered 
Violet,  gaily.  "Cousin  Keith,  you  haven't  given 
me  my  Christmas  gift  yet,"  she  said.  "Stoop 
down  and  get  the  kiss  I've  been  saving  up  for 
you." 

As  she  did. so  he  threw  about  her  shoulders  a 
beautiful  cape  of  silver  fox  fur.  It  reached  far 
below  her  waist,  and  the  high  storm  collar 
formed  a  pretty  frame  for  her  face,  flushed  with 
surprise  and  pleasure. 

"If  this  bossy  doctor  of  yours  i«  going  to  take 
you  about  the  mountain  with  him  in  all  sorts  of 
weather,  I'll  have  to  see  that  you're  properly 
bundled  up.  Where's  the  muff,  Jeanie  ?  and  I 
believe  Louise  has  the  cap.  There,  my  lady, 


308  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

nothing  can  possibly  freeze  but  the  tip  of  your 
ambitious  little  nose!" 

"Oh !  how  can  I  ever  thank  all  you  dear,  ex- 
travagant people  ?"  cried  Violet,  turning  round 
and  round  to  display  her  new  possessions. 
"These  are  just  as  lovely  as  they  can  be!  Dr. 
Strong,  you'll  have  to  take  me  every  time  now, 
so  I  can  enjoy  them." 

"The  pleasure  will  not  be  all  your  own,  little 
Russian  princess,"  he  said,  smiling  upon  her 
and,  for  once,  forgetting  to  veil  his  eyes.  Vio- 
let was  too  excited  to  notice  this,  but  Janet  saw 
and  was  again  astonished.  Yet  as  she  looked 
on  Violet's  lovely  face,  her  shining  golden  hair, 
her  charming  mingling  of  child-like  and 
womanly  ways,  how  could  she  wonder  that  men 
should  love  her  ? 

From  Violet  she  glanced  up,  more  critically 
than  ever  before,  at  the  stalwart  doctor  beside 
her.  What  a  handsome  pair  they  were !  How 
his  strength  would  supplement  her  gentleness ! 
She  forgot  the  disparity  of  years.  At  this  mo- 
ment they  seemed  each  exactly  suited  to  the 
other.  And  then,  like  a  stab  in  her  heart,  came 
the  memory  of  the  far-distant  Mac,  the  bright, 
whole-souled  boy  Avhose  youth  had  been  of  such 
rich  promise,  the  tall,  vigorous  young  man,  am- 
bitious, upright,  wjiom  they  had  all  loved  so 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  309 

dearly.  Far  clown  in  her  own  secret  thoughts 
Janet  had  always  looked  forward — far  forward 
— to  the  union  of  his  life  and  Violet's.  But 
now — who  could  tell  ?  All  their  hopes  for  him 
had  been  dashed  to  the  ground.  Might  it  be 
that  for  her  a  beautiful  new  love  should  blossom 
from  the  ashes  of  the  old  ?  Violet  was  very 
young,  and  perhaps — 

"Now  we  must  hurry  home  and  get  the  things 
ready  for  the  chapel,"  said  Louise,  rubbing  the 
new  muff  against  her  rosy  cheek.  "The  tree  will 
be  lighted  at  six  o'clock,  and  you  must  be  sure  to 
be  there,  Violet," 

"I  can't  promise  you  that,  Miss  Louise,"  the 
doctor  answered  for  her.  "Violets  don't  thrive 
out-of-doors  after  the  sunshine  has  gone  this 
cold  weather.  But  she  shall  come  up  this  after- 
noon to  see  all  the  pretty  work." 

Louise  made  a  wry  face. 

"Oh !  dear  me,  Violet,  do  come  back  home  as 
soon  as  ever  you  can,  so  you  won't  have  to  mind 
this  crotchety  person.  Don't  you  feel  rebellious 
sometimes  ?" 

Violet  stole  a  shy,  laughing  glance  at  the 
crotchety  person. 

"No,  not  vet,"  she  answered,  demurely. 

"That  'yet'  is  well  added,"  affirmed  Louise, 
fastening  her  own  fur  about  her  throat.  "Good- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

bye,  dear,  I'm  coming  soon  to  borrow  you  for  a 
whole  day.  We  shall  not  be  so  busy  after  this. 
I  suppose,  Dr.  Strong,  you  can  lend  her  to  us, 
just  once,  can't  you  ?" 

Some  little  time  after  they  had  left,  the  doc- 
tor's big  double  sleigh  was  brought  around  to 
the  door.  Berdel,  wrapped  to  the  eyes,  was 
carefully  lifted  in  to  the  back  seat,  with  Aunt 
Diana  beside  her;  Violet  shared  the  front  seat 
with  Dr.  Strong,  who  drove  the  fine  span  him- 
self, and  Garet  was  snugly  stowed  on  a  little 
stool  at  their  feet,  with  her  own  special  rug  of  fur. 

A  fresh  snow  had  fallen  during  the  night, 
covering  with  beautiful  purity  that  already  on 
the  ground  and  reflecting  the  bright  sunshine 
from  millions  of  glittering  points. 

Violet's  cheeks  were  soon  glowing  in  the  clear, 
cold  air ;  her  eyes  sparkled,  and  she  gave  merry 
answers  to  the  doctor's  jocose  remarks.  He  fre- 
quently glanced  back  to  see  how  Berdel  was  get- 
ting on,  and  was  pleased  to  find  that  she,  too, 
found  exhilaration  in  the  lovely  morning  sun- 
shine. Once  or  twice  he  bent  to  peep  at  Garet's 
happy  little  face  as  she  sat  in  silent  enjoyment 
of  the  beautiful  scene  spread  out  before  her. 

Up  the  mountain  side  they  went,  far  up  and 
farther  along  the  ridge  than  Violet  had  ever 
been,  until  they  came  to  the  holly  tree.  It  was, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  311 

in  truth,  a  fine  specimen,  tall  and  symmetrical, 
and  just  now  covered  with  a  mantle  of  snow, 
from  which  the  scarlet  berries  shone  out  like 
jewels.  Dr.  Strong  gave  the  reins  to  Violet, 
while  he  sprang  out  and  broke  off  several  great 
branches. 

As  they  turned  homeward  Violet  noticed  a 
small  hut  in  the  forest,  at  some  little  distance 
from  the  road.  It  was  half  buried  in  snow. 

"What  is  that?"  she  asked.  "Could  any  one 
live  way  up  here  ?" 

"It  is  not  likely.  This  is  only  a  wood  road. 
You  noticed,  perhaps,  that  we  left  the  main 
highway  some  distance  back  when  the  snow  grow 
deeper.  I  dare  say  that  is  one  of  the  wood- 
chopper's  huts  used  occasionally  before  Mr. 
Standish  forbade  the  cutting  of  any  more  trees 
in  this  part  of  the  mountain. 

"Then  this  belongs  to  him,  does  it  ?  All  this 
big  forest?" 

"This  particular  section  of  the  mountain, 
from  the  place  at  which  we  turned  in  and  for 
some  distance  belongs  to — to  the  Caldwell  es- 
tate; on  the  other  side  to  the  Standish.  Look, 
Miss  Violet,  was  there  ever  a  lovelier  view  than 
this  ?" 

They  had  reached  the  point  at  which  the  whole 
Ammonet  Valley  lay  like  a  map  before  them. 


312  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"  My  heart  is  awed  within  me  when  I  think 
Of  the  great  miracle  that  still  goes  on 
In  silence  round  me — the  perpetual  work 
Of  thy  creation,  finished,  yet  renewed 
Forever.     Written  on  thy  works  I  read 
The  lesson  of  thy  own  eternity," 

softly  quoted  Berdel. 

The  doctor  turned  to  her,  smiling.  As  he  did 
so,  he  saw  that  all  Violet's  roses  had  paled. 

"Shall  we  stop  a  moment  at  the  chapel  ?"  he 
asked  softly.  "Would  you  like  to  see  the  tree 
and  the  decorations  there?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  almost  as  though  in 
appeal  for  an  instant,  but  spoke  with  an  attempt 
at  cheerfulness. 

"I  promised  Louise.  She  would  be  so  disap- 
pointed." 

The  doctor  set  his  teeth  hard.  What  he 
feared  had  happened.  The  memory  of  Mac  and 
the  associations  of  the  day  with  him  had  clouded 
its  brightness.  This  was  no  more  than  he  might 
naturally  have  expected.  None  the  less  it  hurt 
him. 

Arriving  at  the  chapel,  Violet  laid  her  hand 
on  his  arm. 

"Let  me  go  alone,  please."  Then,  as  she 
caught  Garet's  eager  look,  "You  are  coming  to- 
night, dear." 

So  he  let  her  have  her  way  and  watched  her, 
as  one  regards  a  precious  treasure,  as  she  walked 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  313 

up  the  snowy  path,  a  pretty  bit  of  color,  with 
the  dark  bine  of  her  dress  and  the  warm  sheen 
•  >f  her  furs,  the  lustre  of  her  golden  hair,  waving 
softly  about  her  face. 

She  opened  the  heavy  outer  door  and  slipped 
noiselessly  through  the  vestibule.  As  she 
pushed  ajar  the  door  leading  to  the  chapel  she 
heard  a  low  murmur  of  voices,  and  saw  Keith 
and  Louise  standing  near  a  window.  He  was 
bending  his  head  towards  hers  and  had  both  her 
hands  held  closely.  Her  face  could  not  be  seen, 
but  the  radiance  on  his  told  a  story  which 
thrilled  Violet's  heart  with  thankfulness,  while 
if,  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 

As  silently  as  possible  she  closed  the  door  and 
made  her  way  back  to  the  sleigh.  The  doctor's 
keen  glance  detected  the  trace  of  tears,  but  also 
noted  a  look  of  deep  joy,  for  which  he  could  not 
account. 

"Is  it  beautiful,  my  sweet  Violet?"  spoke  up 
Garet, 

"Perf'lv  lovely  darling !"  Violet  exclaimed, 
stooping  and  kissing  her  several  times,  much  to 
the  small  maiden's  surprise,  for  Violet  was 
chary  of  her  kisses  to  any  one. 

"Have  they  finished  trimming  the  tree  al- 
ready ?"  was  Berdel's  inquiry. 

"The  tree !  Oh,  I  didn't  see  the  tree !"  said 
Violet,  rather  blankly. 


314  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Again  the  doctor  turned  a  critical  gaze  in  her 
direction.  She  had  been  gone  but  the  briefest 
time,  returning  in  tears,  in  smiles,  and  without 
apparently  having  been  in  the  chapel  at  all ! 

By  this  time  Garet  had  squared  herself 
around  and  was  looking  up  into  Violet's  face, 
her  eyes  full  of  reproach. 

"But  you  said,  my  sweet  Violet,  that  it  was 
perf'ly  lovely." 

"And  so  it  is,  you  dear  little  puzzled  head. 
"You'll  all  know  some  day,"  she  added,  speak- 
ing to  her  mystified  companions.  "I  expect  it 
sounds  and  seems  foolish  enough,  but  I  can't — I 
really  can't  tell  you  a  word  more.  You'll  just 
have  to  wait." 

"And  you,  mademoiselle,  will  just  have  to  lie 
in  your  chair  without  speaking  to  a  soul  until 
dinner,  to  pay  for  exasperating  and  aggravating 
and  tantalizing  us  in  this  mean  way." 

Her  eyes  were  brilliant  again ;  her  cheeks 
flushing  with  excitement.  She  seemed  scarcely 
to  hear  him.  When  they  reached  home,  he  car- 
ried his  decree  out  to  the  letter,  and  she  had 
plenty  of  time  in  which  to  think  over  the  glad 
news  and  all  the  delightful  happenings  it  would 
bring  in  its  train. 

On  their  return  from  the  Strong's  it  had  been 
decided  that  Keith  and  Louise  should  go  on  to 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  315 

the  chapel,  while  JanU,  who  had  some  house- 
hold matters  to  look  after,  would  not  come  for 
an  hour  or  two. 

"A  few  girls  will  be  there  to  finish  the  gar- 
lands, and  the  tree  will  hardly  be  readv  for  the 
gifts  before  noon.  You  two  go  right  on  up  and 
I'll  send  the  hampers  before  I  come." 

So  they  left  her  at  Little  Acorns.  Just  before 
they  reached  the  chapel,  they  met  a  boy  sent  by 
Andy,  who  told  them  that  there  had  been  some 
delay  about  getting  the  last  greens,  so  they  would 
not  be  delivered  for  an  hour  or  more. 

"What  shall  we  do,  Louise  ?  Go  back  home, 
or  wait  here  ?" 

"O  !  I  think  we  would  better  wait  here.  I've 
been  wishing  to  ask  you  about  the  program. 
And  we  can  have  a  quiet  time  now." 

"Very  well.  James,  you  may  drive  down  and 
wait  for  Miss  Janet.  Pick  up  your  pretty  n-d 
frock,  Miss  Lucinda ;  this  path  is  narrow." 

The  chapel  seemed  delightfully  warm  and 
cosy  after  the  keen  cold  outside.  It  was  fra- 
grant, too,  with  pine  and  spruce.  Louise  pro- 
duced her  program,  and  they  sat  down  at  a 
small  table  to  rearrange  it.  This  done  to  their 
satisfaction,  some  of  the  music  was  gone  over, 
Louise  playing  the  organ  and  Keith  humming 
the  airs.  After  this  she  hunted  up  a  feather- 


316  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

duster  and  busied  herself.  A  spirit  of  restless- 
ness, quite  unusual,  appeared  to  possess  her. 

"She  is  thinking;  of  Mac,  poor  darling!" 
Keith  said  to  himself.  Finally,  after  wander- 
ing about  all  over  the  room  and  doing  every- 
thing possible  in  preparation  for  the  evening, 
she  came  to  one  of  the  windows  and  stood,  gaz- 
ing out  over  the  snowy  landscape. 

"Isn't  it  delightful  to  see  Violet  looking  so 
much  better  ?"  she  asked  Keith,  who  had  joined 
her.  "We  couldn't  have  had  a  dearer  Christmas 
gift,  could  we  ?" 

"Hardly." 

"Mr.  Keith,  do  you  think  Mac  will  ever  come 
back  and  be — be  a  true  Christian  again  ?" 

She  -looked  at  him  without  blush  or  tremor, 
as  frankly  as  the  child  Louise  might  have  done. 
He  was  the  one  who  stammered  and  trembled, 
so  afraid  was  he  of  wounding  her. 

"I  hope  so — surely.  I  am  sure  that — in 
time — he  will  see  his  error,"  he  said,  struggling 
with  a  wild  impulse  to  put  his  arms  around  her 
and  tell  her  how  gladly  he  would  bear  all  this 
sorrow  for  her. 

She  showed  a  little  surprise  at  his  odd 
manner. 

"Well,  I  hope  so  with  all  my  heart,"  she  de- 
clared. "And  I  can't  help  believing  that  he 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  317 

will,  for  his  own  sake  and  for  Violet's.  If  I 
only  knew  where  to  address  him  I  would  write 
and  tell  him  how  she  is  breaking  her  heart  for 
him.  I  am  sure  it  would  bring  him  to  his 
senses,  for  he  truly  loves  her,  when  he  isn't 
blinded  by — Why,  Mr.  Keith,  what's  the 
matter  ?" 

For  Keith  had  retreated  a  step  and  was  re- 
garding her  with  the  utmost  astonishment. 

"Violet!"  he  repeated,  paling  and  flushing. 
"Violet !  Why,  I  thought — I  always  thought 
that  it  was  you  whom  Mac  loved  and  you  who 
cared  for  him." 

It  was  her  turn  now  to  blush.  The  color  flew 
richly  over  cheek  and  brow.  There  was  a 
strange  new  light  in  the  face  bending  nearer  to 
hers.  Vainly  she  endeavored  to  speak  com- 
posedly : 

"I!    Oh,  no.    I  do  not— " 

Her  voice  faltered ;  she  looked  down,  unable 
to  meet  the  gaze  of  this  Keith  whom  she  had 
never  known  before.  She  felt  her  hands  taken 
in  close,  loving  clasp ;  she  heard  a  few  words  of 
deep  affection,  tenderly  spoken ;  she  heard,  too, 
with  an  overstrained  ear,  Violet's  light  step  in 
the  vestibule. 

"O,  please !  some  one  is  coming !"  she  cried 
in  soft  alarm,  moving  away. 


318  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Let  them  come,"  was  Keith's  reassuring 
answer,  as  he  held  her  the  tighter.  "See,  there 
was  no  one,  dear  child.  Don't  he  afraid  of  me, 
Louise;  look  up  and  tell  me  that  all  I  have 
longed  for  so  hopelessly  is  really,  wonderfully 


CHAPTEK  XXII. 
HOPES  AND  FEARS. 

r  I  "1HE  rest  of  the  day  passed  like  a  dream  to 
J-  Louise.  But  a  very  few  minutes  after 
Keith  had  won  from  her  the  promise  he  so 
ardently  coveted,  a  troop  of  young  people  from 
the  quarry  village  had  rushed  in,  laden  with 
trailing  vines  of  ground  pine  and  great  boughs 
of  holly.  From  this  time  on  until  the  last  child 
had  departed  at  sundown,  tired  and  happy, 
there  was  no  chance  for  even  a  word.  An  occa- 
sional glance  from  Keith's  eloquent  eyes,  reveal- 
ing what  he  found  it  simply  impossible  to  con- 
ceal, was  all  the  outward  sign  Louise  had  of  the 
marvellous  change  which  those  few  words — so 
unexpected,  so  thrilling — had  made  in  her  life. 
She  could  not  realize  it  in  the  least,  except  bv 
the  unreality  of  all  that  was  going  on  around 
her.  Once  or  twice  Mark  chided  her  for  her 
absent-mindedness ;  and  Janet,  at  last  noticing 
that  there  was  something  unusual  in  her  appear- 
ance, looked  with  anxiety  at  her  crimson  cheeks 
and  shining  eyes. 

"Aren't  you  getting  too  tired,   dear?"    she 
asked,  solicitously.    "Let  me  attend  to  this,  and 


320  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

you  go  back  there  by  the  organ,  where  it  is  more 
quiet.  You've  been  working  too  hard  all  day. 
I  don't  see  what  Keith  was  thinking  of.  Here 
he  comes  now.  I'll — 

But  Louise  drew  her  hands  quickly  from 
Janet's  and  slipped  away  without  a  word. 

"Have  you  and  Louise  been  quarreling  ?"  ex- 
claimed Janet.  "She's  fairly  running  away 
from  you,  and  the  dear  child  is  tired  to  death 
with  all  this — " 

"Tired!"  interrupted  Keith,  looking  around 
anxiously,  and  disappearing  in  the  greatest  pos- 
sible hurry  in  the  direction  of  a  comely  dark 
head. 

"Well !"  said  Miss  Janet  to  herself,  "if  I  were 
Aunt  Diana  I  would  exclaim,  'What  on  earth !' 
These  certainly  are  peculiar  actions." 

But  before  she  had  a  chance  to  ponder  further 
over  them  she  was  called  away,  and  kept  so  busy 
for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  that  she  could  only 
occasionally  wonder  what  the  trouble  had  been. 
No  inkling  of  the  truth  dawned  upon  her  until 
the  next  morning,  when  they  came  to  her 
together  in  her  sitting-room  at  Little  Acorns, 
and  then  no  words  wrere  needed.  One  look  and 
she  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"O  !  O  !  This  was  it !"  she  cried,  incohe- 
rently, "You  blessed  darlings !" 


Tke  Sylvester  Quarry.  321 

A  little  while  afterward  Louise  said : 

"Now,  Mr.  Keith,  please  go  and  get  Violet. 
I  shall  not  be  perfectly  happy  until  she  knows, 
and  Dr.  Strong  said  he  would  lend  her  to  me 
some  day  soon." 

"Yes,  Miss  Standish,  I  will  go  at  once,  with 
pleasure,"  Keith  answered,  in  most  dignified 
and  formal  fashion,  thereby  making  both  Janet 
and  Louise  look  up  in  surprise.  But  Janet 
began  to  smile  and  Louise  blushed  charmingly. 

"I  foresee  that  I'll  have  to  get  used  by  degrees 
to  having  a  pair  of  lovers  about.  I  suppose  the 
proper  thing  now  is  for  me  to  leave  you  to  de- 
cide what  you'll  call  each  other  hereafter,  so  I'll 
take  myself  off  like  the  obliging  third  party  I 
mean  to  be,"  laughed  Janet,  dropping  the  por- 
tieres behind  her. 

It  was  quite  still  in  the  pretty  room  for  at 
least  a  minute  after  her  exit. 

That  Keith  stood  gravely  waiting  for  some- 
thing was  as  evident  as  that  Louise  was  strug- 
gling with  mingled  embarrassment  and  resolve. 

"Come  up  closer — and  I'll  say  it — Keith!" 
She  spoke  with  pretty  shyness.  "O !  I  didn't 
mean  quite  this  way,"  came  more  faintly.  "You 
are  altogether  too  obedient,"  she  finally  declared 
when  she  was  free,  smoothing  down  her  rumpled 
frills. 

21 


322  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"There's  such  a  lot  of  waste  time  to  make  up 
for,  you  know,  my  darling,"  he  answered,  put- 
ting his  hand  under  her  round  chin  and  turning 
her  face  up  to  his.  "What  do  you  suppose  made 
me  such  a  blind  bat,  Miss  Lucinda  ?" 

"O !  I  guess  you  must  be  made  that  way !" 
was  her  smiling  response. 

"And  would  you  never,  never  in  all  the  world, 
have  given  me  just  the  weest  bit  of  a  sign,  you 
hard-hearted  little  person  ?"  he  demanded,  still 
looking  down  on  the  beloved  features  and  think- 
ing them  the  dearest  ever  made. 

A  flood  of  crimson  swept  up  to  her  hair ;  her 
eyes  fell ;  she  stirred  uneasily. 

"Don't  be  asking  saucy  questions,  Mr.  Curi- 
osity, but  go  bring  Violet  home." 

"Ah !  but  I  want  an  answer,"  he  persisted, 
tenderly,  again  raising  her  face. 

With  a  quick  movement  she  turned  and  hid 
it  on  his  shoulder. 

"O  !  that's  just  what  I'm  afraid  I  must  have 
done,"  she  whispered.  "How  else  could  you 
have  known  so  quickly  ?" 

"And  is  that  what  makes  you  so  shy  of  mo, 
my  darling  child  ?  No,  Louise,  you  wore  true 
womanly;  never  fear  for  that.  It  was  just  a 
blessed  inspiration  that  came  to  me  when  I 
heard  you  confess  that  you  did  not  love  Mac. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  323 

Indeed,  I  like  to  believe  that  the  kind  Heavenly 
Father  himself  has  given  us  to  each  other  as 
helpmeets  and  dear  comrades,  while  we  arc 
doing  his  will  here  on  earth.  He  knows  we  each 
have  need  of  the  other,  and  I  can  but  feel  that 
he  has  shown  us  the  lovely  truth  at  just  the  best 
time.  I  have  been  so  disheartened  and  almost 
despairing  these  last  few  months.  I  seemed 
sometimes  as  though  my  work  here  were  ended, 
and  ended  miserably,  too.  But  now  that  I  know 
your  happiness  has  not  been  sacrificed,  and  can 
look  forward  to  your  dear  presence  at  my  side, 
I  am  ready  for  anything." 

Louise  pushed  her  fingers  through  his  hair, 
with  timid,  caressing  touch. 

"So  many  times  when  I've  seen  Auntie  Jean 
do  this,  I've  wished  that  I,  too,  might  show  you 
how  my  heart  ached  for  all  your  sorrow  and  per- 
plexity. It  semed  as  though  you  must  know 
how  dear  you  were  to  me.  You  were  always  so 
clever  at  reading  all  my  other  thoughts  and 
wishes." 

"But  you  were  more  clever  at  concealment, 
you  see,  Miss  Lucinda !  Ah !  thank  God, 
Louise,  all  those  days  are  behind  us.  ]STow,  we 
may  take  only  comfort  and  joy  in  our  lives 
together." 

An  hour  later  he  went  for  Violet,  whom  he 


324  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

found  dressed  ready  for  the  ride,  and  in  a  state 
of  subdued  excitement. 

"She's  been  on  the  lookout  for  you  all  the 
morning,  Keith,"  the  doctor  declared.  "I  be- 
lieve there's  a  conspiracy  on  foot.  Something 
very  mysterious  certainly  happened  at  the 
chapel  yesterday.  Halloo !  what  are  you  looking 
all  sorts  of  ways  for  ?  I  believe  you  are  in  the 
secret,  too.  Out  with  it  now,  old  fellow !" 

But  Keith  only  blushed  the  more,  and  Violet 
came  to  the  rescue. 

"Let  Keith  alone,  Dr.  Strong.  You  are  too 
curious  by  half.  Miss  Berdel,  how  did  Aunt  Di 
ever  let  him  grow  up  such  a  prying  man  ? 
Good-bye,  dear;  I'll  be  back  again  in  a  couple 
of  days.  Good-bye,  Doctor;  I  know  you'll  be 
glad  to  have  one  patient  off  your  hands  for  a 
little  while." 

She  stood,  tall  and  straight  in  her  rich  furs, 
a  charming  picture  for  any  man  to  look  on,  a 
treasure  for  some  man  to  win. 

"Don't  flatter  yourself,  mademoiselle ;  I  shall 
call  on  you  professionally  about  four  o'clock 
this  afternoon." 

"Ah,  me !  Berdel,  do  you  hear  that  ?  I 
thought  I'd  get  one  day's  respite  at  least. 
Come,  Keith,  let's  hurry  off." 

As  they  drove  away,  the  doctor,  bareheaded 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  325 

in  the  winter  sunshine,  waved  them  a  last  good- 
bye. Keith  had  noticed  his  almost  lover-like 
care  of  Violet,  and  for  the  first  time  a  suspicion 
of  what  might  be  entered  his  mind. 

"What  a  fine  fellow  Doctor  Strong  is,"  he 
said. 

"Yes,  he  is  lovely,"  Violet  assented  warmly. 
"I  never  dreamed  how  lovely  until  since  I  have 
seen  him  with  Miss  Berdel.  He  is  devotion  and 
tenderness  itself." 

"She'll  miss  him  some  of  these  days  when  he 
marries." 

"O !  but  he'll  never  marry  so  long  as  she 
lives !  I  cannot  imagine  any  other  woman  tak- 
ing her  place,  or  his  being  fond  of  any  other. 
He  has  eyes  and  thoughts  only  for  her." 

Keith,  from  the  riches  of  his  new-born  expe- 
rience, smiled. 

"I  see  that  other  people  can  be  blind  bats, 
too,"  he  thought.  "But  I'm  in  no  hurry  to  give 
my  little  Violet  away  to  any  man,  now  that  Mac 
has  failed  us.  Dear  boy,  how  I  wish  he  knew 
of  our  happiness." 

In  true  lover  fashion,  his  thoughts  were  wholly 
occupied  with  Louise,  and  he  scarcely  spoke 
again  to  Violet,  who  watched  him  from  one  cor- 
ner of  eyes  brimming  over  with  amusement. 

"What    can    you    be     thinking    of,    Cousin 


326  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Keith  ?"  she  inquired  demurely,  after  trying 
vainly  to  resist  a  desire  to  tease  him  a  bit. 
"You're  smiling  to  yourself  in  the  most  selfish 
way." 

"I?    O!    You—" 

"Do  you  really  ?  Well,  I  never  knew  an 
I  O  TJ  was  a  source  of  such  pleasure  to  any  one. 
How  much  do  you  owe  me,  Cousin  Keith  ?" 

Keith  could  not  help  laughing  heartily. 

"I  will  confess  to  being  absent-minded  this 
morning,  Miss  Violet,  Do  pray  excuse  me. 
There's  a  good  reason,  the  very  dearest  and 
sweetest  of  reasons  for  it." 

Violet  nodded  her  pretty  head. 

"O !  I  dare  say  you  think  so,  but  wait  till  I 
ask  Louise." 

Keith  looked  quickly  around,  but  Violet's  face 
was  innocence  itself. 

They  were  just  entering  the  Little  Acorns 
gate,  so  no  more  was  said.  Janet  and  Louise 
both  came  out  to  meet  her  and  carry  her  off  to 
her  own  cosy  room,  the  same  whieh  Louise  had 
so  lovingly  helped  Miss  Janet  prepare  for  the 
little  English  Violet  Keith  brought  home  to 
them.  She  lay  down  now  on  a  wide  couch  near 
the  south  window,  through  which  warm  sunlight 
poured  in. 

"Are  you  tired,  dear  ?"  asked  Louise,  kneeling 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  327 

beside  her  and  arranging  the  heaps  of  cush- 
ions. 

"No,  only  the  least  trifle.  But  Dr.  Strong 
made  nie  promise  always  to  lie  down  for  half  an 
hour  after  coming  in  from  a  ride  or  a  walk. 
There's  no  need  to  ask  how  you  are,  Louise. 
Hebe  herself  could  not  be  more  blooming." 

"That's  because  I'm  so  happy.  Violet — O ! 
you  never  can  guess  what  a  beautiful,  won- 
derful thing  has  happened,"  Louise  confided 
breathlessly. 

Violet's  hand  passed  over  the  soft  dark  head 
lying  on  her  breast. 

"I  think  I  can,  Louise,"  she  said  gently.  "The 
problem  of  Cousin  Keith's  wife  has  been  settled, 
has  it  not  ?  And  in  a  way  to  make  us  all  very 
happy?" 

Louise  was  sitting  erect  now,  startled  and 
wide-eyed. 

"Then  it  was  you  I  heard  !"  she  cried,  irrele- 
vantly. "I  was  sure,  but  Keith  declared  there 
was  no  one." 

"Yes,  dear.  I  came  on  you  at  the  most  inop- 
portune moment,  to  my  deep  distress;  but  I 
tried  to  be  so  very  quiet  that  you  would  not 
know.  I  was  entirely  innocent  of  any  wrong 
intentions." 

"Why,  of  course  you  were.     Indeed,  I  didn't 


328  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

dream  myself  of  anything  until — all  in  a 
second — we  knew,  and  everything  was  settled. 
It  seems  like  a  beautiful  dream,  Violet.  O  !  how 
can  he  care  so  much  for  me !" 

"Well,  I've  always  ?iven  Cousin  Keith  credit 
for  possessing  a  fair  share  of  the  family  brains," 
was  Violet's  whimsical  reply.  "A  man  would 
have  to  be  a  perfect  idiot,  Louise,  to  live  here 
with  you  all  these  years,  as  he  has,  and  not  love 
you  with  his  whole  heart." 

"O  Violet,"  protested  Louise,  blushing,  "don't 
say  such  things.  I  can't  understand  it  and  never 
shall,  but  I'm  so  glad !" 

"So  are  we  all.  What  a  little  gcosie  I  was  to 
ever  think  he  might  marry  Miss  Berdel.  But 
now,  Louise,  when  is  it  going  to  happen  ?  Are 
you  going  to  move  over  here,  or  will  he  move  to 
Standish  Hall,  or  will  you  build  a  nest  all  your 
own  somewhere  ?  Only  see  her  blush  !  and  look 
as  embarrassed  as  though  she  hadn't  known 
Cousin  Keith  these  ever  so  many  years.  But, 
come,  I'm  in  a  hurry  to  have  my  question 
answered.  Begin,  please.  O !  here  comes 
Cousin  Keith  now — I'll  ask  him." 

"O !  Violet,  please,"  begged  Louise,  in  such 
confusion  that  Violet  hadn't  the  heart  to 
persist. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  Louise  was  asked 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  329 

these  same  questions  by  one  from  whom  she 
could  not  beg  off. 

On  the  first  day  of  January  orders  were  given 
at  the  Quarry  for  the  getting  out  of  a  quantity 
of  the  finest  grey  stone.  Plans  were  selected, 
and,  as  soon  as  the  weather  would  permit  it,  the 
foundations  of  a  handsome  house,  a  little  more 
than  midway  between  Little  Acorns  and  the 
chapel,  were  to  be  dug.  Some  day  in  early  June 
the  wedding  would  be,  and  the  flitting  was  to  be 
made  from  the  old  homes  to  the  new  as  soon  as 
the  house  should  be  ready. 

At  first  all  this  had  appeared  to  Mr.  Standish 
as  rather  too  great  ha&te,  but  he  had  eventually 
been  won  over. 

"There  is  no  man,"  he  said  to  Keith  one  day, 
"to  whom  I  could  so  willingly  give  my  treasure. 
And  it  ill  becomes  me  to  defer  your  happiness 
and  hers,  especially  as  you  are  not  to  take  her 
from  my  daily  sight  and  meeting." 

So  it  was  all  seftled,  and  the  busy,  happy  days 
began  to  slip  swiftly  by,  with  but  two  clouds  in 
the  clear  sky.  ISFo  word  came  from  Mac,  and 
Violet  was  fading  away  as  silently  but  surely  as 
her  sweet  name  flower  fades  when  plucked  from 
the  root  which  gives  it  life. 

As  the  new  year  opened  and  grew,  week  by 
week,  it  was  evident  to  them  all  that  her  appa- 


330  The  Sylvester  Qiturry. 

rent  visror  through  the  winter  had  been  but  a 
temporary  improvement.  Now,  on  the  approach 
of  spring,  her  strength  grew  less.  She  had 
stayed  contentedly  at  the  doctor's  all  the  winter, 
seeming  to  prefer  surroundings  which  did  not 
remind  her  of  the  absent  one  to  whom  her  heart 
clung  with  mute  fidelity,  for  Mac's  name  had 
never  once  passed  her  lips  since  he  left  home  in 
October. 

One  day  in  late  February  she  said  to  Doctor 
Strong : 

"Can't  you  see  yet,  Doctor,  that  it  isn't  of  any 
use?" 

They  were  alone  in  the  little  sitting-room, 
Berdel  having  gone  to  the  kitchen  with  Aunt  Di, 
a  most  unusual  absence,  of  which  Violet  took 
advantage. 

Doctor  Strong  was  sitting  by  the  low  reclining 
chair,  of  which  she  was  so  fond.  He  had  been 
reading  aloud  to  them  both,  but  when  Berdel  left 
the  room  to  have  a  "good  confab  with  Aunt 
Diana"  on  the  subiect  of  a  new  maid,  Violet  had 
begged  him  to  put  the  book  aside.  His  heart 
stood  still  as  he  heard  her  question,  but  he 
feigned  ignorance  of  her  real  meaning. 

"If  you  could  be  a  little  more  explicit,  Miss 
Violet,"  he  began,  but  stopped  short  as  she  raised 
her  arm,  pushing  back  the  lace  ruffles  and  reveal- 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  331 

ing  a  fragile,  blue-veined  wrist  and  almost  trans- 
parent hand. 

"I  can  see  how  it  grows  thinner  and  weaker 
day  to  day.  There  is  no  need  to  try  to  conceal 
the  truth  from  me,  Doctor.  I  know — and  my 
only  regret  is  that  those  who  love  me  will  miss 
me  for  a  little  while.  I've  been  wishing  to  have 
a  talk  with  you  for  some  time,  for,  you  see,  you 
are  the  only  one  to  whom  I  can  speak  of  this. 
Dear  Miss  Berdel  must  not  be  worried,  and  all 
of  the  dear  home  people  love  me  so  much  that  it 
would  hurt  them  but  you,  my  kind  friend,  you, 
I  know,  will  attend  to  a  few  things  for  me  after 
I  am  gone." 

The  Doctor  had  turned  his  face  from  the 
light  and  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  He 
was  praying  for  strength. 

"Yes,  Violet,"  he  said,  "I  will  do  anything  for 
you." 

"I  was  sure  of  it.  Thank  you."  She  lay  quite 
still  for  a  few  minutes.  "I'd  like  to  live  until 
Cousin  Keith  and  Louise  are  married — I'm 
going  to  try  to,  but  what  I  meant  at  first  was  that 
you  and  I  should  understand  that  there's  no  use 
to  pretend  any  longer  that  I'm  going  to  get  well. 
And  I'd  rather  go  home  for  the  rest  of  the  time. 
It  was  so  good  of  vou  to  let  me  come  here ;  you 
knew,  didn't  vou,  just  how  hard  it  was  then  for 


332  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

me  to  stay  there  ?  And  your  music  has  been 
more  of  a  comfort  than  I  can  ever  tell  you.  It 
seems  as  though  it  said  all  that  I  could  not  say 
and  eased  the  ache  in  my  heart.  You  see,  I  am 
speaking  very  plainly  to  you,  for,  I  think — 
I've  thought  lately,  dear  friend — that  maybe 
some  time  you,  too,  have — have  suffered,  and  so 
can  understand."  Again  she  lay  silent  with 
closed  eyes. 

"I'm  going  to  leave  with  you  this  letter,"  she 
said  then,  drawing  a  sealed  envelope  from  a  box 
beside  her.  "If  Mac  ever  comes  home,  his  real, 
dear  self,  give  it  to  him,  please.  And,  then,  I've 
written  out  here  a  sort  of  will.  I  suppose  it  isn't 
in  legal  form,  and  I'll  not  be  twenty-one  for  over 
a  year;  but  I'm  sure  Cousin  Keith  will  carry 
out  my  wishes.  I'd  like  you  to  read  it  over  to 
me  now  aloud,  so  I  mav  be  sure  I've  made  my 
meaning  clear." 

She  handed  him  a  folded  paper.  lie  took  it, 
without  speaking,  and  walked  to  the  window. 
After  a  moment  he  began  reading.  The  first 
paragraphs  distributed  a  number  of  valuable 
jewels  and  other  personal  belongings  among  her 
friends  and  gave  a  special  wedding  present  to 
Keith  and  Louise.  Then  came  the  bulk  of  the 
bequest. 

"And  last  of  all,  I  want  to  give  Mac,  with  my 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  333 

true  love,  my  home  in  England.  It  was  there 
that  I  first  saw  him.  Keep  it  for  him,  in  trust, 
Cousin  Keith,  until  he  comes  back  to  yon,  his 
own  right,  noble  self.  In  the  meantime  use  the 
income  from  the  place  for  your  work  against 
intemperance  in  the  Quarry  village.  If  he  never 
comes,  or  on  his  death,  sell  our  old  home  and  de- 
vote the  money  to  the  temperance  work  which 
you  think  best." 

"Thank  you.  That  is  just  what  I  mean.  And 
will  you  try,  Doctor,  not  to  let  Mac  know  how  I 
missed  him  ?  Tell  him  I  was  never  strong;  that 
this  failing  health  would  have  befallen  me  in  any 
case.  Yon  can  do  this  as  no  one  else  can.  I  don't 
want  him  ever  to  have  a  moment's  sorrow 
for  me. 

"That  is  all  now,  Doctor,  my  dear,  good  friend. 
Put  the  letter  and  the  paper  securely  away.  I'm 
glad^I  need  not  think  of  them  again.  To-night 
I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  play  to  me  once 
more.  Then  to-morrow  I'll  go  home.  I'm  tired 
now." 

He  enclosed  the  papers  in  a  stout  envelope  and 
showed  her  where  he  locked  them  away  in  his 
desk.  She  smiled,  as  if  contented,  and,  turning 
on  her  pillow,  fell  asleep  almost  at  once.  For  a 
moment  he  looked  down  at  her,  his  face  whiter 
than  hers  and  drawn  with  pain. 


334  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"God  helping  me,  she  shall  not  die,"  he  mur- 
mured, as  he  left  the  room  for  a  long,  hard  ride 
over  the  mountain. 

The  next  day  he  went  to  Keith. 

"Tell  me  what  is  right,  Keith,"  he  begged. 
"Violet  is  dearer  to  me  than  life.  MacDonald 
has  left  her  like  a  flower  thrown  carelessly  by 
the  roadside.  Her  sweet  nature,  her  loving 
heart,  are  crushed  by  his  cruel  neglect.  Can  I 
sit  by  to  see  her  slowly  fade  and  perish  when 
my  own  heart  is  overflowing  with  the  love  for 
lack  of  which  she  is  dying?  Medicine  cannot 
help  her;  love  and  tender  care  may  woo  her 
back.  Will  you  let  me  try,  Keith  ?  Will  you  give 
her  to  me  if  I  win  her  ?  Or  must  we  wait  and 
hope  against  hope  that  the  misguided  boy  will 
come  to  his  senses,  and,  in  the  meantime,  see  her 
slowly  but  surely  slip  away  from  us  ?" 

Keith  listened  in  astonishment. 

"I  never  dreamed  of  this.  I  would  have  said 
that  Violet  was  to  you  only  a  dear  child.  But 
love,  true  love,  such  as  I  believe  yours  to  be, 
counts  not  on  years  or  degree.  Mac  has  for- 
feited all  claims  to  Violet's  love  or  respect.  As  he 
is  now  I  would  never  give  her  to  him.  That  he 
will  ever  be  his  old  self  seems  doubtful.  At  all 
events,  we  cannot  wyait  for  what  may  be.  If  you 
can  woo  our  darling  back  to  health  and  win  her 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  335 

sweet  heart,  I  will  gladly  give  her  to  your  keep- 
ing, John,  and  thank  God  for  you  both." 

Doctor  Strong  could  not  speak,  but  a  close 
hand-clasp  was  all  the  answer  needed. 

About  the  first  of  March  Keith  went  to  New 
York  to  meet  the  Brookses,  who  were  returning 
from  Europe.  He  wished  to  lose  no  time  in 
beginning  negotiations  for  the  purchase  of  the 
Quarry  stock.  He  expected  to  be  gone  several 
days,  and  Louise  came  over  to  spend  the  time  of 
his  absence  with  Violet,  by  her  special  desire. 

The  pretty  room  in  which  Violet  passed  nearly 
all  her  time  now  was  as  bright  as  sunshine  and 
flowers  could  make  it.  Since  coming  home  she 
Avns  always  daintily  dressed,  always  cheerful, 
nearly  always  busy  with  some  bit  of  needle-work 
for  the  new  home  in  which  she  took  so  deep  an 
interest.  Except  that  she  seldom  went  down 
stairs,  and  took  longer  "rests"  week  by  week, 
there  was  little  change.  Her  room  was  the  cen- 
tre, of  the  life  of  the  house  during  her  waking 
hours.  She  loved  especially  the  morning  visit 
of  Marcia  Eliot,  of  whom  she  had  always  been 
very  fond,  and  of  Mr.  Standish,  who  seldom  let 
a  day  pass  without  coming  over  for  a  little  chat. 
Her  favorite  chair,  from  Doctor  Strong's,  fol- 
lowed her  soon  after  her  own  coming.  He  had 
once  heard  her  say  that  no  other  was  ever  so  com- 


336  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

fortable.  And  every  evening,  after  the  hour 
with  Berdel,  he  drove  over  with  his  violin  and 
played  for  her.  The  first  time,  it  happened  that 
she  was  sleeping,  and  was  awakened  by  the  soft, 
lovely  strains.  Opening  her  eyes. and  seeing  him 
there,  the  tears,  she  so  rarely  shed,  filled  her 
eyes.  She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"O !"  she  said,  "how  good  you  arc !  How  I 
wish  I  could  do  something  for  you  !" 

"You  can,  Violet.  Oh,  you  can  do  everything 
for  me!  Get  well,"  was  on  his  tongue's  end, 
with  mighty  impulse  for  utterance;  but  he  kept 
the  tell-tale  words  back,  and  only  smiled  an 
answer  as  he  drew  his  bow  across  the  strings  in 
a  merry  measure.  He  seldom,  now,  played  the 
old  passionate  outpourings,  with  their  sobbing 
undertone,  but  instead  melodies  stirring  with 
hope  and  suggestive  of  gladness  and  of  joy  to 
come,  Quite  often  he  came  in  during  the  day 
to  bring  her  a  beautiful  rose,  a  bouquet,  a  hand- 
ful of  early  spring  wild  flowers,  a  basket  of  fruit, 
a  picture  from  his  home  he  had  heard  her  ad- 
mire, or  one  he  thought  she  might  like  to  look  at. 
Sometimes  he  sat  for  half  an  hour,  telling  her 
bits  of  neighborhood  news,  asking  her  advice 
about  some  patient  in  whom  she  was  interested, 
reading  a  chapter  from  whatever  book  she  had 
on  hand,  or  from  some  new  one.  Occasionally 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  337 

•he  screwed  up  his  courage  and  stayed  away  for 
a  day,  hoping  she  might  miss  him  and  be  the 
more  glad  to  see  him,  as,  indeed,  was  true. 

"It's  a  great  pity  that.  Doctor  Strong  hasn't  a 
sweetheart,"  Louise  remarked  one  morning,  as 
she  put  fresh  water  in  a  bowl  of  American  Beau- 
ties standing  on  what  she  called  the  "Doctor's 
table,"  near  Violet's  chair.  "There  hasn't  been 
a  day  since  you  came  home  that  something  from 
him  has  not  been  laid  on  this  table.  If  he  is  so 
devoted  as  a  physician,  only  think  what  a  lover 
ho  would  make !" 

"You  are  so  well  qualified  to  judge  of  lovers 
now-a-days  that  I  suppose  I  must  take  your  word 
for  it,"  Violet  answered  brightly.  To  herself 
she  was  thinking : 

"He  knows  it  will  be  but  for  a  little  while,  and 
he  is  sorry  for  me." 

And  this  thought  put  her  wholly  off  her  guard, 
hindering  what  the  Doctor  was  so  anxious  to 
secure.  But  while  it  kept  her  from  suspecting 
his  real  feeling  for  her,  his  constant  care,  his 
daily  presence,  his  unfailing  voiceless  sympathy 
which  she  could  read  in  tone  and  glance,  were 
fast  becoming  necessary  to  her  happiness.  Half 
unconsciously  she  looked  forward  to  what  Louise 
styled  the  "daily  offering,"  and  missed  sorely  the 
daily  visit  when  it  was  not  made. 
22 


338  The  Sylvester  Quxrry. 

One  afternoon,  when  she  and  Louise  were' 
alone,  she  looked  for  a  long  time  at  the  picture 
of  her  Aunt  Violet,  which  had  never  been  moved 
from  the  nlace  where  Keith  had  hung  it  on  her 
arrival  at  Little  Acorns. 

"Louise,"  she  said,  "I'm  going  to  ffive  you  this 
picture  of  the  other  Violet  when  you  are 
married." 

Louise  glanced  up  at  the  lovely  portrait. 

"O  !  no,  dear.    You  must  not  part  with  that." 

"Yes,  Louise,  I  wish  you  to  have  it  in  your 
own  room.  There  is  no  good  picture  of  me,  and 
they  say  I  am  much  like  this." 

Louise  looked  from  the  picture  to  the  face  on 
the  cushions. 

"Yes,  you  are  just  like  it,  Violet,  only  a  little 
bit  thinner  this  spring;  but  when  fine  weather 
comes  you  will  grow  plump  again." 

"We  will  hope  so,  although  I  never  did  aspire 
to  be  very  sizable.  Louise,  did  I  ever  tell  yon 
about  the  time  Mac  and  I  saw7  Cousin  Keith  at 
her  grave  in  our  little  burial  place  at  Sylvester 
Hall  ?" 

Louise  tried  to  conceal  her  surprise  at  this 
mention  of  Mac. 

"No.  But  Keith  has  told  me  of  her ;  how 
dearly  he  loved  her  and  how  cruelly  her  brother 
separated  them.  He  was  your  father,  was  he 
not,  Violet?" 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  339 

"Yes.  I  never  knew  the  whole  story,  but  I 
always  suspected  that  she  died  because — because 
she  was  not  allowed  to  marry  Cousin  Keith." 

Violet  watched  Louise  closely  through  her 
half-closed  lids.  But  her  fair  face,  bent  above 
some  needle-work,  showed  no  consciousness  of 
any  possible  repetition  of  the  far-away  Violet's 
experience. 

"One  morning,"  Violet  went  on,  "I  took  Mac 
to  see  papa's  grave,  and  we  were  going  over  to 
Aunt  Violet's  when  we  saw  Cousin  Keith  step- 
ping carefully  across  the  grass.  He  knelt  beside 
the  little  ivy-covered  mound  for  a  long  time,  and 
we  crouched  behind  a  tall  monument,  hardly 
daring  to  breathe  for  fear  he  should  find  that  we 
were  there.  It  all  seemed  very  strange  and  mys- 
terious to  me  then.  I  could  not  understand  how 
a  young  girl  could  die  of  a  broken  heart." 

"It  does  seem  dreadful,"  Louise  replied, 
thoughtfully.  "I  know  Keith  will  like  to  have 
the  picture,  but  I  really  feel  that  you  should 
keep  it." 

"I  don't  give  it  to  him,  dear.  I  want  you  to 
have  it  for  your  very  own,  to  remind  you  of  me 
when — when — 

She  hesitated.  Somehow,  she  felt  that  morn- 
ing a  very  natural,  human  longing  for  sympathy, 
but  she  resolutely  resisted  the  temptation. 


340  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"When  I'm  not  over  there — for,  you  know, 
Louise  dear,  Cousin  Keith  is  not  marrying  me, 
too,  and  there  will  be  at  least  a  few  hours  every 
day  when  I  am  not  under  your  roof-tree.  By 
the  way,  have  you  decided  on  a  name  for  the 
pretty  new  home?  I  heard  you  all  discussing 
several  not  long  ago." 

"Not  yet.  And  we  are  ready  to  receive  sug- 
gestions. Have  vou  heard  those  already  offered  ? 
'The  Oaks/  'Oak  Crest,'  'Acorn  Cups,'  'Grey 
Stone,'  'Keloden.'  This  was  evolved  from 
Keith,  Louise  and  Dennet  by  Mark's  fertile 
brain.  'Unserheim,'  from  Marcia,  whose  tastes 
are  Teutonic,  you  know.  I  like  that,  the  moan- 
ing of  it,  pretty  well  myself.  But  I  prefer  an 
American  name  for  an  American  home,  and 
'Our  Home'  sounds  too  much  like  a  sewing-ma- 
chine. I  think,  'Salem,  House  of  Peace,'  a  beau- 
tiful name  for  a  home,  but  Keith  says  it  is  too 
suggestive  of  witches.  Isn't  he  naughty  ?  So 
we  appear  to  be  as  far  as  ever  from  a  decision." 

"May  I  come  in,  my  sweet  Violet  ?"  asked  a 
soft  voice  just  then. 

"Oh,  here's  Garet !  Good-morning,  dear  !  I'd 
forgotten  this  was  Saturday.  Take  off  your 
things  and  Miss  Louise  will  let  you  sit  in  her 
chair  close  beside  mine." 

"Yes,  Garet,"  said  Louise,  "I'm  glad  you've 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  341 

come  to  take  care  of  Miss  Violet.  I  was  just 
thinking  I  must  run  home  for  awhile." 

She  left  the  room  soon  after,  and  then  began 
Caret's  happy  hour,  when  she  could  be  "nurse" 
for  her  beloved  sweet  Violet.  As  noiselessly  as 
a  sunbeam  she  stepped  about  the  room,  putting 
in  order  whatever  her  quick  eye  judged  to  be 
amiss,  deftly  smoothing  the  cushions,  adjusting 
the  shades,  and,  finally,  settling  down  on  an  otto- 
man beside  the  low  chair  in  perfect  content. 

On  this  particular  morning  she  kept  looking 
at  Violet  in  a  half-questioning,  half-doubtful 
way,  which  brought  to  remembrance  a  promise 
made  the  week  before. 

"Yes,  dear,  I've  not  forgotten,"  said  Violet, 
smiling.  "You  may  begin  as  soon  as  you 
please." 

A  flash  of  satisfaction  illumined  the  little 
girl's  face. 

"O!"  she  cried,  clasping  her  hands,  "I  was 
afraid  you  wouldn't  rec'lect,  and  I  didn't  think 
'twould  be  p'lite  to  ask  you.  Now,  you  be  sure 
to  tell  me  if  I  pull,  won't  you  ?" 

"I  surely  will,"  laughed  Violet,  as  very  gentle 
fingers  began  unbraiding  the  long  shining  plaits 
in  which  she  now  often  wore  her  hair.  To  brush 
the  long,  soft  tresses  and  coil  them  up  again  was 
one  of  Garet's  chief  delights,  and  one  in  which 


342  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Violet  usually  indulged  her  when  feeling  strong 
enough. 

As  the  small  hand  patiently  and  lovingly 
wielded  the  brush  the  nimble  tongue  kept  up  a 
chatter,  highly  amusing  to  Violet. 

"Doctor  John  B.'s  going  to  bring  you  some 
blood-root  and  some  room'tism  this  afternoon, 
my  sweet  Violet.  He  went  up  the  mountain 
ever'n  ever  so  earlv  this  morning  and  brought 
home  the  dearest  little  bunch  of  white  flowers, 
'n'  gram'thur  made  that  funny  little  noise  in  her 
nose  she  makes  sometimes,  'n'  says :  'You  got 
some  blood-root,  ain't  you,  John  B.  ?  Yes,  'n' 
room'tism  too,  I'll  warrant,  flummoxin'  round 
up  to  your  knees  in  the  wet  afore  sun-up.  Jes 
look  at  them  boots.  '!N"J  what  do  you  'spose 
Violet  Sylvester  wants  o'  all  the  posies  you're 
forever  fetchin'  her  ?  Like's  not  she  throws  'em 
all  away  the  minute  your  back's  turned.  I  know 
girls.' 

"'1ST'  then  Doctor  John  B.  turned  red  and  pink 
all  over  his  neck,  'n'  I  said : 

"  'No,  gram'thur,  my  sweet  Violet  don't  throw 
away  a  single  one  o'  her  flowers,  nor  any 
room'tism  either,  I  guess ;'  'n'  then  they  all 
laughed — 'n'  now  you're  laughing,  too  I" 

Violet  drew  her  down  and  hugged  her  close. 

"We  just  laugh  because  you're  a  dear  little 
girl  and  we  love  you,  dear." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ANDY'S  GUEST. 

ONE  storinv  evening  about  the  middle  of 
March,  Andy  Graham  came  home  from 
his  day's  work  at  the  Quarry  in  a  state  of 
unusual  depression  of  mind  and  fatigue  of  body. 
Snow  had  been  falling  heavily  since  sunrise,  and 
was  now  blown  into  great  drifts  by  a  steady, 
strong  wind,  which  swept  in  gusts  down  the 
mountain.  Work  for  the  men  shut  down  early 
in  the  day;  but  Andy  had  been  busy  in  the 
superintendent's  office  until  late.  The  unaccus- 
tomed confinement  had  wearied  him,  and  his 
heart  was  sick  at  Mac's  continued  silence.  He 
had  written  many  letters,  sending  them  in  care 
(if  Mrs.  Vandyne,  but  no  answer  had  come  back 
across  the  waters.  The  Quarry  company  was,  as 
yet,  unable  to  secure  control  of  the  stock  and 
close  down  on  the  sale  of  liquor  or  the  employ- 
ment of  drinking  men,  as  was  proposed  in  the 
summer ;  and,  notwithstanding  his  unexpected 
success  in  individual  efforts,  aided  by  Jim 
Maloney  and  the  chapel  workers,  Andy  felt  cast 
down  in  spirit,  and  heavy  of  heart.  Buffeted 


3M-  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

by  the  driving  icy  wind,  he  trudged  wearily 
through  the  deep  drifts  to  the  tidy  little  home 
which  his  widowed  sister  kept  so  comfortable  for 
his  father  and  himself.  It  was  the  last  house 
going  from  the  Quarry  over  the  mountain,  high 
up  and  a  half-mile  beyond  its  nearest  neighbor. 

"I  lak  to  get  oop  where  I  can  breathe  the  air 
as  it  cooms  straight  from  heaven,"  old  Kobert 
had  said,  "an'  nae  be  crowded  by  men  folk." 

As  Andy,  breathless  from  his  hard  climb, 
opened  the  outer  door,  a  delicious  odor  of  frying 
ham  and  eggs  greeted  his  nostrils  and  began  its 
preliminary  work  of  comfort. 

"Ah,  lad !  here  ye  coom  at  last.  We've  been 
lookin'  this  hour  back.  Here,  Maggie,  lass,  gi' 
me  th'  knife  an'  I'll  tend  th'  skillet  while  you 
fetch  oot  th'  lad  some  dry  things.  Pull  off  your 
boots,  Andy  man,  an'  we'll  soon  gi'  ye  a  cup  o' 
coffee  hot  as  herrin'.  This  is  an  ugly  nicht  to  be 
out  in.  Thank  God  we're  a'  safe  V  snug." 

"And'  may  He  keep  a'  those  puir  souls  that's 
wanderin'  aboot  i'  th'  storm  o'  wind  an'  snow, 
an'  those  that  wander  i'  th'  storm  o'  sin  'n'  con- 
tention. My  heart  has  been  sair  for  th'  dear  lad 
a'  th'  weary  day  lang." 

"Is  aught  noo  amiss,  lad  ?"  asked  old  Robert, 
his  hand  on  Andy's  bowed  head  as  he  sat  by  the 
fire  drying  his  feet. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  345 

"Naught  that  I  ken,  father ;  but  oh !  I'd  gi' 
th'  world  tae  hae  him  out  o'  harm's  way." 

"We're  a'  i'  th'  hollow  o'  His  hand,  Andy 
man.  Dinna  forget  that." 

"I'd  nae  be  dishonorin'  Him,"  said  Andy,  de- 
voutly ;  "it's  only  my  own  weak  faith." 

"Dinna  say  that,  lad.  'Tis  not  your  faith 
that's  weak,  but  your  stomach  that's  empty. 
Coom  awa'  now  an'  taste  o'  Maggie's  bonnie  sup- 
per, an'  then  we'll  hae  a  chapter  from  th'  Book 
wi'  a  word  o'  thanksgivin'  to  th'  glide  Father, 
an'  th'  darkest  cloud  will  be  liftin'  after  that. 
'Twas  nae  for  nicht  th'  dear  Lord  put  a  man's 
heart  next  neighbor  to  his  stomach." 

Andy  exchanged  smiles  with  his  sister  as  she 
set  the  last  steaming  dish  on  the  table  and  they 
all  drew  up  their  chairs.  Abundant  justice  was 
done  the  generous  meal,  after  which  Robert  took 
the  "Book"  from  its  place  and  turned  its  well- 
worn  pages. 

"I'll  read  a  few  verses  frae  th'  thirty-seventh 
Psalm  o'  David : 

"'Fret  nicht  thyself  because  o'  evil-doers, 
neither  be  thou  envious  against  th'  workers 
o'  iniquity. 

"  Tor  they  shall  soon  be  cut  doon  lak  th' 
grass,  and  wither  as  th'  green  herb. 

"  'Trust  i'  th'  Lord,  an'  do  good ;  so  shalt  thou 
dwell  i'  th'  land  an'  verily  thou  shalt  be  fed. 


346  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"  'Delight  thyself  also  i'  th'  Lord ;  an'  He 
shall  gi'  thee  th'  desires  o'  thine  heart, 

"  'Commit  thy  way  unto  th'  Lord ;  trust  also 
i'  Him,  an'  He  shall  bring  it  to  pass. 

"  'An'  He  shall  bring  forth  thy  righteousness 
as  th'  licht,  an'  thy  judgment  as  th'  noonday. 

"  'Rest  i'  th'  Lord,  an'  wait  patiently  for 
Him ;  fret  nicht  thyself  because  o'  him  that 
prospereth  i'  th'  way,  because  o'  th'  man  who 
bringeth  wicked  devices  to  pass.'  ' 

The  beautiful  words,  so  full  of  promise  and 
comfort,  fell  on  Andy's  sore  heart  with  heavenly 
healing.  Robert  read  no  more.  As  he  closed 
the  Bible  Maggie  started  up. 

"What's  that,  Andy  ?  I've  heard  it  once  be- 
fore, lak  some  one  callin'." 

They  all  listened.  ~No  sound  came  to  their 
ears  but  the  howling  of  the  storm,  now  grown 
furious.  Andy  hurried  to  the  door  and  tried  to 
open  it, 

"Try  the  back  door,  lad.  There's  less  blast 
there.  Maybe  ye  heard  th'  creakin'  o'  a  blind, 
Maggie." 

"It  sounded  lak  some  livin'  thing,  a  lamb  or  a 
dog,  strayed  avva'.  It  couldna  be  a  man  awa' 
oop  here." 

"God  forbid  that  any  soul  is  oot  i'  this  storm. 
Did  ye  hear  aught,  lad  ?" 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  347 

"Ay,  father,"  called  Andy  from  the  shed. 
"Fetch  th'  lantern,  an',  Maggie,  have  a  kettle  o' 
hot  water  an'  gude  strong  coffee.  There's  some 
poor  creature  not  far  frae  our  door." 

Robert  pulled  011  his  boots  while  Maggie 
brought  his  great  coat  and  big  fur  cap. 

"Tie  th'  ear-flaps  doon,  father,  an'  here's  your 
comforter.  I  hate  to  see  you  start  out  i'  such  a 
bitin'  storm." 

"Nay,  lass,  think  rather  what  you  may  be 
doin'  for  th'  comfort  o'  this — 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  Andy's  entrance. 
He  came  staggering  in,  half-blinded,  breathless, 
covered  with  snow,  carrying  in  his  arms  what 
Deemed  to  be  the  lifeless  figure  of  a  man. 

"He  had  fallen  just  beyond  our  gate  an'  I 
could na  wait,  father.  Help  me  lay  him  on  th' 
bed  i'  my  own  room.  I  think  he's  still  alive,  an' 
only  fainting  frae  th'  merciless  wind.  Maggie 
lass,  bring  a  cup  o'  coffee  hot  as  you  can  mak'  it." 

They  got  the  stranger's  wet  clothes  off  and 
wrapped  him  in  warm  blankets  with  the  hot 
irons,  which  chanced  to  be  on  the  stove,  at  his 
feet.  He  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man,  but 
light  of  weight  for  his  unusual  size.  It  was  not 
until  Maggie  brought  the  coffee  and  they  tried  to 
force  some  between  his  lips  that  they  clearly  saw 
his  features. 


348  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Th'  Lord  above  be  praised !"  cried  Andy, 
then  bending  to  look  closer.  "It's  th'  dear  lad 
himself !  O  father,  father,  it's  Master  Mac !" 

Old  Robert,  scarcely  less  excited  and  joyful 
than  Andy,  assured  himself  by  the  sight  of  his 
own  eyes  that  the  good  news  was  true,  and  then 
they  all  set  to  work  with  a  will  to  resuscitate  the 
"dear  lad."  It  was  a  long  time  before  he  re- 
warded their  efforts  by  slowly  opening  his  eyes. 
Andy  was  the  one  to  receive  this  first  look  of 
recognition. 

"Thank  God,  Master  Mac,  you're  safe.  Drink 
this  cup  o'  hot  milk  now  an'  then  go  to  sleep. 
You're  weary  frae  your  climb  oop  here  i'  th' 
storrn.  I'll  nae  leave  you,  so  hae  nae  fear  for 
anything." 

Mac  smiled  languidly ;  he  drank  the  milk 
and,  too  weak  for  speech,  almost  immediately 
dropped  asleep. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  Andy's  emo- 
tions as  he  sat  by  the  bedside  during  the  hours 
when  Mac  slept.  His  searching  eye  as  well  as 
his  loving  instinct  had  at  once  told  him  that  the 
boy  had  come  back  "clothed  in  his  right  mind." 
But  the  deep  lines  about  brow  and  mouth,  the 
wasted  frame,  the  nervous  twitchings  and  mut- 
terings,  gave  evidence  of  physical  wreck  no  less 
than  of  mental  suffering. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  349 

Waking  but  once  or  twice  for  a  moment  or 
two,  Mac  slept  heavily  until  morning.  About 
midnight  Robert  begged  Andy  to  let  him  take 
his  tnrn  at  watching. 

"Get  you  tae  bed,  lad.  Ye'll  hae  need  o'  your 
rest  to  be  bright  o'  th'  morrow." 

"Nae,  father ;  every  bit  o'  weariness  has  gone 
frae  my  bones.  I  could na  sleep  for  joy  an' 
thankfu'ness.  I  canna  go  frae  sicht  o'  him.  Lie 
doon  yoursel'.  I'll  keep  th'  fire  an'  watch  for 
his  first  word." 

So  Robert  sought  his  couch,  and  Andy,  in  the 
stillness  of  the  wee  sma'  hours,  lifted  up  his 
heart  in  thanksgiving  and  praise.  Just  before 
daylight  it  stopped  snowing  and  a  restful  calm 
succeeded  to  the  roaring  of  the  night.  Mac 
awoke  at  sunrise  and  looked  dreamily  out  of  the 
window,  over  as  pure  and  peaceful  a  scene  as 
though  storms  were  things  unknown. 

Andy  was  close  at  hand  with  another  cup  of 
refreshment.  Having  drunk  this,  Mac  said : 

"I'm  all  right,  thank  you,  Andy,  and  will  get 
up,  for  I  must  speak  with  your  father  and  your- 
self before  you  go  to  work." 

"You  may  speak  all  you  lak,  laddie;  but 
dinna  think  o'  gettin'  oot  o'  your  bed.  Your 
muscles  must  still  be  sore  an'  achin'.  'Twas  no 
sma'  thing  you  went  through,  fightin'  against  th' 


350  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

drivin'  snow.  Bo  content  to  rest  awhile  yet.  My 
father  and  I  will  listen  to  yon  here." 

Mac  smiled  again,  but  tried  to  rise,  only  to 
fall  back  against  the  pillows. 

"I  believe  I  am  rather  done  np,  after  all. 
O !  Andy,  it's  good  to  be  here  with  you !"  he 
murmured  faintly. 

His  clasp  of  Andy's  hand  was  convulsive,  and 
he  bit  his  lips  to  still  their  quivering. 

"An'  it's  mair  than  earthly  joy  to  hae  you 
here,  dear  lad,"  said  Andy.  "Will  you  hae  my 
father  in  before  he  has  his  breakfast  ?" 

"Oh,  no;  before  you  both  go  down  to  the 
Quarry." 

"I  doubt  if  any  work  be  done  there  to-day. 
An'  I'll  not  go.  I'll  send  word  that  I'm  kept  at 
home.  I  wouldna  leave  you,  Master  Mac." 

A  troubled  look  at  once  crossed  Mac's  face. 

"Oh,  yes  !  you  must  not  stay,  Andy,"  he  said, 
trying,  in  his  earnestness,  to  raise  himself  on  one 
elbow.  "That's  just  what  I'm  so  anxious  about. 
No  one — no  one  but  you  three  must  know  that 
I've  come — that  I'm  here." 

He  was  getting  quite  flushed. 

"ISTae,  now,  laddie,"  came  Andy's  soothing 
tones,  "dinna  fret.  Everything  shall  be  just  as 
you  like.  Only  lie  doon  again  an'  rest  easy.  I 
promise  yon  sure  that  nae  one  o'  us  three  will 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  351 

speak  a  word  o'  your  bein'  here  until  yon  gi'  us 
leave.  Now,  turn  again  an'  go  to  sleep.  You're 
sair  worn  oot,  Master  Mac.  Gi'  your  puir  body 
a  chance  o'  gettin'  back  some  o'  its  wasted 
strength,  an'  then  your  mind'll  see  things  clear. 
Can  you  no  trust  Andy  Graham  ?" 

Mac  looked  up  into  the  rugged,  loving  face 
bending  over  him.  Hot  tears  rushed  to  his  eyes, 
blinding  him.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  sobs  choked 
the  words  back. 

''Nay,  now,  laddie,"  said  Andy,  soothing  him 
tenderly  as  a  mother  might  have  done  and  in 
much  the  same  way,  "Andy  knows  and  Andy 
loves  you.  Forget  all  that  is  gone  by,  Master 
Mac.  Th'  dear  Lord's  ready  wi'  comfort  an' 
healin'.  liaise  vour  heart  tae  Him  an'  sleep 
awa'  a'  aches  o'  body  an'  o'  mind  while  Andy 
keeps  watch  by  your  side." 

With  Andy's  hand  tightly  clasped  in  his,  Mac 
again  fell  asleep. '  When  he  awoke  long  shadows 
lay  across  the  room — another  day  was  closing. 
He  was  anxious  now  to  get  up,  but  was  finally 
persuaded  to  take  another  night's  rest  first,  on 
condition  that  Andy,  too,  should  sleep. 

Next  morning  Mac  joined  the  family  at  break- 
fast, thoroughly  rested  from  his  battle  with  the 
storm,  but  showing  signs  of  general  ill-health. 
When  the  meal  was  ended  and  prayers  were  over 


352  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Maggie  withdrew,  by  previous  direction  of  her 
brother. 

"Now,  Master  Mac,"  said  Andy,  "my  father 
and  I  will  hear  whatever  you  wish  tae  say." 

A  flush  of  embarrassment  rose  to  Mac's  fore- 
head, but  his  voice  was  firm,  and  he  looked  his 
companions  squarely  in  the  eye. 

"I  only  wish  to  beg  that  you,  and  Maggie,  too, 
should  keep  my  being  here  a  secret.  I  came  up 
the  mountain  from  the  other  side,  walking  from 
Lindenderry.  This  house  is  so  remote  that  there 
is  small  chance,  at  least  during  this  heavy  snow, 
of  my  being  seen  by  the  neighbors.  Just  as  soon 
as  possible  I  shall  carry  out  plans  I've  already 
made.  Until  then,  may  I  count  on  your 
silence  ?" 

Old  Robert  arose  and  held  out  his  hand,  which 
Mac  grasped  heartily. 

"You  can  count  on  me,  Master  Mac,  an'  I'll 
vouch  for  Maggie.  As  for  Andy  here,  nae  doubt 
you'll  be  speakin'  tae  him  i'  private." 

"Thank  you,  Robert," 

"I'll  go  doon  as  usual  an'  mak'  excuse  for 
Andy.  I  ken  weel  enough  he'll  nae  be  leavin' 
you.  Indeed,  I  doubt  much  if  th'  men  get  tae 
their  work  at  a'." 

When  he  had  gone  and  Maggie  had  made  the 
sunny  room  tidy,  Andy  pulled  a  wide,  comforta- 
ble lounge  before  the  open  stove. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  353 

"Lie  there,  Master  Mac,  an'  stretch  yoursel' 
oot  to  your  likin'." 

"Thank  you,  Andy;  but  I've  some  things  to 
talk  over  with  you  and  I'd  rather  be  on  my  feet. 
You  won't  mind  if  I  push  this  back  and  walk 
about,  will  you  ?" 

"Tak'  your  own  pleasure,  laddie." 

Mac  strode  restlessly  up  and  down  for  some 
lime,  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  Andy,  seated  in 
the  chimney  corner,  pretended  to  be  busy  at  his 
favorite  occupation  of  whittling  out  wooden 
toys. 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  Andy,  I'd  never 
have  come  home  this  winter,"  Mac  began 
abruptly,  as  he  walked.  "I  have  been  sunk  so 
deep  in  the  mire  that  I'm  not  fit  for  any  one's 
company,  especially  that  of  all  those  dear  people 
who  have  loved  me  so  well  and  trusted  me  so 
wholly.  I  cannot  !>;o  to  them  for  a  long  while 
yet.  But,  ever  since  the  night,  six  weeks  ago, 
when  I — when  I  found  out — when  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  begin  once  more,  Andy,  my  heart 
has  longed  for  you.  Every  word  you  spoke  and 
prayed  that  night  in  Xe\v  York  has  been  ringing 
in  my  ears  ever  since.  In  all  the  terrible  days 
and  weeks  I  spent  so  horribly,  I  never  forgot 
them ;  and  when,  at  last,  I  turned  my  back  on 
all  that  was  dragging  me  down,  I  longed  for  the 
23 


354  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

shelter  and  the  help  you  could  give.  For  the 
battle  is  not  over  yet ;  the  demon  is  not  cast  out, 
and  I  need  you.  ~No,"  he  said,  putting  out  his 
hand  as  Andy  would  have  spoken  impetuously, 
"don't  say  one  word  yet.  Hear  me  out  first.  I 
knew  that  you  could  understand  as  no  one  else 
can,  not  even  Mr.  Keith,  with  all  his  great, 
loving  heart.  And  so  I've  come,  Andy,  to  have 
the  fight  out.  For,  God  helping  me,  I  will 
neither  live  a  drunkard's  life  nor  die  his  death." 

j^ot  even  Andy's  love,  great  as  it  was,  could 
restrain  him  as  these  words  rang  out,  clear  and 
decided.  Ho  sprang  up  and  threw  his  arms 
about  Mac,  crying : 

"Thank  th'  dear  Lord,  an'  never  hae  a  fear, 
laddie.  He'll  nae  leave  you  i'  th'  toils  of  th' 
adversary.  Th'  same  lovin'  father  that  brought 
Andy  Graham  through  wi'  save  MacDonald 
Caldwell.  Ah,  dear  Master  Mac,  my  prayer  is 
answered  now,  an'  my  hand  wi'  be  th'  one  tae 
dash  th'  cup  frae  your  lips.  Praise  th'  Lord, 
O  my  soul !" 

"Now,"  continued  Mac,  when  they  had  both 
grown  more  calm,  "I  will  tell  you  my  plan.  You 
know  the  wood  lot  up  on  the  mountain,  which 
has  been  called  the  west  lot,  is  mine,  and  I 
remember  that  there  is  a  wood-chopper's  hut 
there,  far  in  from  the  road.  I  want  your  help  in 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  355 

making  it  habitable,  for  I  am  going  to  live  there 
until — until — O  Andy  !  until  I  get  some  of  the 
evil  out  of  me.  I  feel  as  though  I  were  polluting 
your  sweet,  pure  home  by  stepping  inside  the 
door.  And  until  this  other  matter  is  settled. 
I'm  not  running  away  from  temptation,  for  I 
shall  have  some  of  the  vile  stuff  right  there  in 
sight,  and  I  shall  stay  beside  it  until  I'm  its  mas- 
ter, or  until  I  die.  For  God  is  my  witness  that 
not  another  drop  shall  ever  pass  my  lips.  It  is 
six  weeks  now  since  I  drank  the  last  glass.  Since 
then  every  hour  has  been  a  fight  such  as  no  one 
can  know  who  has  not  been  through  it.  I've  lost 
half  my  weight  nearly,  and  all  my  nerve.  See !" 
He  held  out  a  trembling  hand.  ''How  I  ever 
managed  to  get  up  here,  ten  miles  through  the 
storm,  I  cannot  think.  I  only  knew  one  thing — 
that  I  must  get  here  and  that  I  would  not  touch 
this." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small  flask  of  whis- 
key and  set  it  on  the  table. 

"I've  carried  it  there  all  these  weeks.  Once, 
the  other  night,  I  took  it  out,  but  threw  it  from 
me  in  horror,  then  groped  about  on  my  hands 
and  knees  till  I  found  it — it  was  in  that  hollow 
by  Miller's  Pond,  where  I'd  stopped  to  rest — for 
I  am  determined  to  conquer  this  foe  face  to  face. 

"Xow,  Andy,  the  storm  is  over.     Will  you 


356  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

come  with  me  to  the  wood  lot,  for  I  am  anxious 
to  get  away  from  here  as  soon  as  possible." 

Andy's  eyes  wandered  from  the  little  flask  to 
the  glowing'  face  of  the  young  man,  who,  drawn 
to  his  full  height,  pale  and  wasted,  looked  every 
inch  the  hero  that  he  was. 

"I'm  wonderin',  laddie,  how  th'  time  could 
ever  a  been  when  th'  burnin'  poison  i'  that  bottle 
con  Id  a'  held  any  charm  for  me.  But  th'  prince 
o'  the  powers  o'  darkness  canna  stand  before  th' 
Lord  o'  light  an'  glory,  'n  the  time's  nae  laug 
awa',  dear  .Master  Mac,  when  th'  appetite,  strong 
an'  coinpellin'  as  it  now  may  be,  will  leave  you, 
once  for  a'." 

"You've  spoken  just  the  truth,  Andy,"  said 
Mac,  sadly.  "When  I  left  the  Lord  of  light  and 
glory  to  make  companions  of  those  who  served 
the  prince  of  the  power  of  darkness,  rny  feet 
began  to  slip.  But,  thank  God,  He  sent  you, 
with  your  splendid  courage,  your  loving  earnest- 
ness, to  say  the  words  that  have,  at  least,  turned 
my  face  heavenward  ao'ain.  I  feel  like  the  pub- 
lican, unworthy  even  so  much  as  to  lift  my  eyes 
to  heaven,  or  to  pray.  You'll  do  that  for  me, 
Andy?" 

His  wistful  smile,  sadder  than  tears,  pierced 
Andy's  gentle  heart  like  a  sword  thrust, 

"Nay,  nay,  laddie,  dinna  say  that,     I'll  pray 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  357 

for  you  wi'  my  whole  heart,  but  nae  in  your 
stead.  Dinna  ye  ken  how  th'  father  ran  with 
lovin'  haste  to  meet  th'  penitent,  son  far  off — 
when  he  saw  him  coomin'  ?  How  would  that 
father  hae  felt  had  th'  lad  sent  some  one  o'  his 
comrades  to  see  if  he'd  be  welcome  ?  It's  your 
own  Father's  house,  laddie,  into  which  you're 
returning  and  your  own  Father's  lovin'  hand 
held  oot  to  hand  oop  your  shrinkin'  steps  as  you 
draw  nigh.  Speak  to  Him  wi'  your  own  lips, 
often  an'  free ;  that's  what  He's  been  waiting 
and  longing  for  a'  this  weary  time." 

These  last  words  revealed  to  Mac,  all  uncon- 
sciously on  Andy's  part,  something  of  the  pain 
his  absence  had  caused  those  who  loved  him. 

He  continued  his  walk  in  silence  for  several 
minutes. 

"Tell  me  something  of  them  all,  Andy,"  he 
begged. 

Andy  understood. 

"They're  a'  well  at  Standish  Hall,  an'  workin' 
hard  wi'  th'  Quarry  people  against  th'  liquor 
trade  at  th'  store.  Mrs.  Eliot  an'  Miss  Janet 
hae  been  a  power  oop  there  a'  th'  winter  lang  wi' 
th'  children  more  especial.  A  braw  new  house 
wi'  be  built  nigh  to  th'  chapel  this  spring,  an' 
there'll  be  a  bonnie  bride  when  Miss  Louise  be- 
cooms  th'  dominie's  wife.  A'  through  th'  winter 


358  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Miss  Violet  was  doon  at  th'  Doctor's,  for  she  was 
a  Lit  ailin',  ye  ken,  V  a  change  is  glide  for  young 
folks  sometimes.  She's  back  at  Little  Acorns 
now,  'n'  she  spoke  to  me  i'  her  own  s\veet,  kind 
way  when  1  was  doon  there  a  week  since,  send  in' 
for  me  to  coom  oop  to  her  tidy  bit  room  an'  givin' 
me  her  hand  so  friendly." 

Mac  had  stood  still  as  a  statue.  Now  he  turned 
sharply. 

"To  come  up  to  her  room  ?  Is — is  she  too  ill 
to —  He  could  not  finish. 

Andy  stirred  uneasily  under  pretence  of 
throwing  down  some  whittlings. 

"I  heard  nae  one  say  she  was  ill  that  day,"  he 
said  with  perfect  truth.  "She  was  sittin'  by  th' 
window  sewin'  on  some  pretty  thing  for  th'  new 
home.  She  showed  it  to  me,  askin'  if  it  was  nae 
gude  that  Mr.  Keith  would  have  sae  bonnie  a 
wife.  You  should  a  seen  th'  red  stealin'  oop  into 
Mis'  Louise's  cheeks." 

Mac  looked  at  Andv  with  fixed  gaze,  while  the 
latter  turned  his  head  and  reached  out  for  an- 
other bit  of  wood.  He  sank  into  a  chair,  bowed 
his  head  on  his  hands  and  groaned  aloud. 

"It  is  of  no  use  to  keep  the  truth  from  me,  out 
of  the  kindness  of  your  heart,  Andy.  I  must 
know.  Is  Violet  ill  ?"  he  said,  after  a  moment. 

"She  is  nae  sae  ill  that  th'  Great  Physician 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  359 

canna  heal  her,  laddie,"  was  the  gently-spoken 
answer. 

Mac  asked  no  more  questions.  Very  soon  he 
arose  and  spoke  in  very  different  tone : 

"Come,  Andy,  let  us  go  up  the  mountain.  I 
must  get  to  work." 

"I've  been  thinking  Master  Mac,  aboot  this 
scheme  o'  yours.  'Twill  be  lonesome  an'  fear- 
some awa'  oop  there  wi'  no  soul  to  speak  wi'  a' 
th'  day  lang.  Stay  here  wi'  us.  You'll  hae  th' 
house  to  yoursel'.  for  Maggie  wi'  understand  an' 
nae  intrude.  We've  a  room  to  spare  an'— 

But  Mac  interrupted  him  hastily : 

"It's  no  use  talking  of  that,  Andy.  I  thank 
you  heartily,  but  I  must  get  away — further  away 
than  even  this  from — from  any  chance  of  being 
seen."  lie  spoke  almost  vehemently  with  a 
return  of  the  excitement  of  the  night  before. 

Without  a  word  further  Andy  dropped  his 
toys  and  prepared  for  the  walk. 

"Forgive  me,  Andy,"  Mac  said,  quite  humbly, 
as  he  returned  the  flask  to  his  pocket  and  put  on 
his.  overcoat.  "I  didn't  mean  to  be  rude  to  you, 
of  all  men.  But  my  heart  is  so  sore.  I  hardly 
know  what  I'm  saying." 

Andy  noticed  his  shaking  hands  and  unsteady 
gait.  He  knew  he  was  not  fit  for  the  long  walk, 
but  he  made  no  more  objections. 


360  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"It's  his  remorseful  mind  as  much  as  his  puir 
weakened  body  that's  i'  such  sair  need  o'  help. 
An'  a  bit  o'  God's  sunlight  an'  fresh,  pure  air  wi' 
gi'  strength  to  both  o'  them." 

So  they  stepped  out  into  the  brilliant  sun- 
shine, which  had  in  it  a  hint  of  spring's  warm 
breath  and  was  fast  melting  the  snow-drifts. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  WOOD-CHOPPER. 

IT  was  a  short  mile  from  Andy's  home  to  the 
hut  in  the  woods.  Although  the  road  was 
unbroken,  the  snow  had  blown  in  such  drifts  that 
Kong  spaces  were  left  nearly  bare,  enabling  the 
two  men  to  make  their  way  with  comparative 
ease. 

"Yon  see,  this  is  stoutly  built,"  Mac  said,  as 
they  surveyed  the  small  structure.  "We'll  put 
in  another  window  and  mend  the  roof  a  bit. 
Then,  with  a  few  pieces  of  furniture,  I'll  be  snug 
enough.  My  clothes  are  at  the  Lindenderry 
station  in  a  trunk  marked  with  your  name, 
Andy.  I'll  give  you  the  check.  Then,  the  sooner 
you  can  get  over  to  Standish  for  the  necessury 
things.  I  need  here,  the  more  grateful  I  shall  be." 

Andy  frowned. 

"Dinna  use  or  even  think  that  word,  laddie. 
If  you  could  but  understand  th'  joy  it  gi'es  me 
only  to  see  you  here,  you'd  ken  that  it's  nicht 
but  pleasure  to  do  for  you — everything  an'  any- 
thing i'  my  power.  I'm  th'  one  to  be  feelin' 
thankfu'. 


362  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"An'  now  I'm  thinkin'  that  it  mebbe  would 
be  a  better  plan  to  fetch  a'  your  things  frae  Lin- 
denderry.  Then  they'll  be  brought  oop  frae  th' 
other  side  o'  th'  mountain  an'  nae  one  o'  this  side 
wi'  be  th'  wiser." 

Mac  looked  relieved. 

"I'd  thought  of  that,  but  it'll  be  such  a  pull 
for  the  horses." 

"I'll  risk  th'  horses.  I'm  going'  to  take  th' 
stoutest  o'  th'  Quarry  teams,"  said  Andy,  smil- 
ing. "Now,  let's  get  on  home  an'  make  out  th' 
list" 

"The  sunshine's  bright  and  warm,  Andy,  on 
this  door-step.  I  feel  so  much  safer  here.  Come, 
sit  down." 

So  they  sat  together  there  and  Mac  wrote 
clown  the  items  of  his  simple  purchasing.  Andy 
looked  them  over  without  comment,  and  put 
them,  with  the  trunk  check,  carefully  away  in 
an  inner  pocket. 

A  day  or  two  later  they  were  again  at  the  hut, 
unpacking  the  load  of  goods  from  Lindenderry. 
All  of  Mac's  commission  had  been  faithfully 
executed.  In  addition,  there  was  a  large  square 
rug,  a  big  easy  chair  and  an  iron  bedstead. 

"Here,  Andy,  there's  been  a  mistake,"  called 
out  Mac.  "They've  sent  two  beds  and — 

"Yes,  Master  Mac,"  answered  Andy,  planting 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  363 

his  feet  wide  apart  and  squaring  himself  around 
with  his  hands  on  his  hips.  "They've  sent  two 
beds,  an'  one  of  them  is  mine,  for  I'm  comin'  oop 
to  sleep  here  i'  this  fine  new  house  o'  yours  every 
night.  I've  brought  th'  rug  along  so's  I  shan't 
have  cold  feet,  an'  th'  chair  is  for  me  to  rest  in 
i'  th'  evenin's  when  I'm  sair  weary.  If  you've 
any  objections  to  this  arrangement,  jes'  coom  on 
an'  we'll  settle  th'  question  here  an'  now." 

Ilis  attitude  and  tone  were  so  defiant,  his  eyes 
twinkling  with  such  fun,  that  the  combination 
was  irresistible.  Mac  felt  like  crying  and  laugh- 
ing at  the  same  time,  but  laughter  finally  won 
the  day,  and  thereby  rejoiced  Andy's  heart;  for, 
truth  to  tell,  he  had  been  extremely  anxious  as 
to  the  result  of  his  bold  venture. 

With  the  little  ten-foot  room  scrubbed  as  clean 
as  soap  and  water  could  make  it ;  with  two  of 
Maggie's  spotless  curtains  at  the  windows,  the 
iron  bedsteads,  a  table,  a  tiny  stove,  the  gay  rug, 
the  easy  chair  besides  a  couple  of  others,  a  thick 
steamer  rug  over  the  flat-topped  trunk,  and  a 
cupboard  containing  an  outfit  for  cooking  as 
simple  as  a  soldier's,  Mac's  housekeeping  was 
ready  to  begin. 

He  and  Andy  looked  around  with  satisfaction 
when  the  last  article  had  been  put  in  place.  This 
was  a  shining  new  axe,  resting  on  two  stout  nails 


.304  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

beside  a  shelf  on  which  lay  a  Bible  and  the  flask 
of  liquor. 

"I  begin  to  feel  like  a  new  man  already,"  said 
Mac,  stretching  himself  on  one  of  the  beds. 
"Oh,  Andy,  if  yon  could  know  the  heavenly 
sweetness  to  me  of  this  little  place  in  contrast 
to—" 

"Nay,  now,  laddie,  dinna  think  o'  them.  Put 
th'  old  serpent  an'  all  his  trailin'  slime  far  be- 
hind your  back.  Look  oop  an'  out  an'  on  an' 
never  behind.  You've  had  th'  lesson,  bitter  an' 
hard.  Now's  th'  time  to  be  pressin'  forrard  to 
th'  mark  o'  th'  high  callin'  in  Christ  Jesus. 

I've  been  thinkin',  laddie,  how  ye'll  do  if  Doc- 
tor Strong  should  sight  th'  smoke  o'  your  chim- 
ney. He's  th'  kindest-hearted  soul  i'  th'  world, 
an'  once  he  gets  a  notion  o'  some  one  livin'  here, 
he'll  be  ridin'  in  for  a  friendly  word,  fearin' 
there  might  be  a  body  needin'  him  an'  too  poor 
or  ill  to  fetch  him." 

"I'll  have  but  little  fire,  and  that  little  after 
dark.  The  days  '11  soon  be  getting  warmer,  and 
I  shall  be  busy  swinging  my  good  axe  as  soon  as 
I  cultivate  my  flabby  muscles  a  bit.  I'm  going 
to  let  my  beard  grow  till  even  you  won't  know 
me,  and  I've  not  shown  you  yet  my  big  blue  gog- 
gles. They'll  be  handv  in  case  of  need.  And, 
Andy,  I'm  not  to  be  called  MacDonald  Caldwell 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  365 

again  until  that  enemy  is  beaten,"  nodding  to- 
wards the  llask.  "Of  course  it  isn't  likely  that 
I  can  live  here  entirely  unknown.  We  must  be 
prepared  for  any  emergency." 

He  was  silent  for  some  time. 

"I've  thought  it  all  over,  Andy,"  he  said ; 
then,  in  a  lower  tone,  "and  have  concluded  that 
there  is  no  name  so  well  suited  to  me  .as  Peter. 
And,  as  I'm  to  be  a  woodman,  I'll  take  that 
name  too.  So,  we'll  understand  that  Peter 
Woodman  is  the  lonelv  wood-chopper  of  Ammo- 
net  Mountain,  an  odd  Dick,  who  shuns  his  fellow 
mortals  and  wishes  to  be  let  alone  by  them." 

Andy  was  the  silent  one  now.  His  heart  was 
full.  Any  allusion  to  Peter  always  touched  a 
sympathetic  chord.  And  the  thought  that  Mac, 
his  well-beloved,  of  whom  he  had  been  so  proud, 
of  whom  he  still  was  so  fond,  should  in  his  peni- 
tence and  humility  liken  himself  to  the  often- 
erring  disciple,  filled  hio  heart  with  grief  and 
admiration  unspeakable. 

"There's  one  thing  more  to  ask  of  you,  dear 
Andy,  and  this  is  a  fitting  time.  Just  before  I 
resolved  to  break  away  from  my  sinful  life  I 
discovered  that  Mrs.  Vandyne  was  on  the  point 
of  going  from  Paris  to  Brussels  to  buy  from  the 
Brooks,  their  stock  in  the  Sylvester  Quarry.  It 
seems  that  the  Hermanns  had  appointed  her 


366  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

their  special  secret  agent  in  the  matter.  My  con- 
fidence in  her  had  been  growing  less;  my  con- 
science, always  uneasy  and  upbraiding,  gave  me 
no  rest;  and  something  else  which  happened 
just  then,  broke  the  last  tie  which  had  made  me 
her  willing  tool,  her  dupe.  A  large  part  of  the 
money  I  received  from  my  father's  estate  had 
been  squandered,  but  enough  remained  to  buy 
this  stock  and  to  bring  me  home.  I  hurried  off 
to  Brussels,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  arrive 
ahead  of  her  and  to  secure  the  stock.  I  had  to 
pay  a  high  premium,  but  was  glad  enough  to  get 
it  on  any  terms.  I  think  Tom  Brooks,  who  is  a 
shrewd  fellow,  was  suspicious  of  me,  and  well  he 
might  be,  for  I  was  in  a  sad  plight  from  a  long 
spree.  But  I  had  the  cash.  I  met  his  terms 
without  demur,  and — and,  Andy,  I  bought  the 
stock  in  your  name,  with  which  he  seemed 
familiar." 

"In  my  name,  Master  Mac!"  cried  Andy, 
springing  to  his  feet  in  amazement. 

"Listen,  Andy.  Sit  down  and  listen.  I  had 
thought  all  this  out,"  glancing  around  the  room, 
"and  knew,  you  see,  that  I  could  not  hold  the 
stock  and  keep  my  incognito;  so  I  bought  for 
you.  When  is  the  next  directors'  meeting  ?" 

"On  the  last  Thursday  in  tjiis  month,  the 
twenty-foiirtli,  I  think," 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  367 

"That's  next  week.  Good  enough.  Now, 
Andy,  you  must  present  the  stock  at  that  meet- 
ing. Very  likely  Stockton  may  have  heard  from 
Brooks,  and  he'll  make  the  transfer,  giving  you 
your  own  certificates.  You  are  to  say  that  you've 
raised  the  money — there  are  to  be  no  buts  about 
it — so,  don't  interrupt.  When  you  knelt  there 
in  the  Ivunnymede  parlor  and  prayed  for  me, 
you  raised  that  money  as  surely  as  though  I'd 
taken  it  from  my  pocket  and  given  it  to  you 
there.  That  the  devil  stepped  in  and  kept  it 
back  until  six  weeks  ago  doesn't  affect  the  reality 
nor  the  legality  of  the  transaction  in  the  least. 
So  let  your  conscienc.e  rest  easy,  Andy,  and  do 
as  I  bid  you." 

But  Andy  could  not  be  induced  to  see  the  mat- 
(er  in  this  light.  Mac  argued  eloquently  until 
he  was  tired. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  in  despair  of  winning 
the  obdurate  Scotchman  over,  "how  will  you  ex- 
plain to  the  directors  the  fact  of  your  owning  the 
stock?" 

"I'd  rather  tell  them  that  th'  dear  Lord  had* 
put  it  into  my  hands  i'  trust  for  some  one  else 
who  didna  care  to  hae  his  name  mentioned  for 
th'  present,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

"Your  way  is  the  best,  Andy."  Mac  spoke 
very  humbly.  "Oh !  how  wonderfully  beautiful 


368  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

and  easy  a  life  becomes  when  every  step  is  taken 
close  beside  the  Master.  I  realize  more  and 
more  and  more  every  hour  how  far  I've  strayed 
ii  \viiy  from  Him,  and  I  envy  you,  Andy,  with  all 
my  heart.  I'd  give  the  world  for  your  strength 
and  your  loving  confidence." 

"You  can  hae  a'  mine  an'  far.  far  mair,  lad- 
die, jes'  for  th'  askin'.  Th'  Master  is  aye  at 
your  side,  lovin',  yearnin',  hopin'  you'll  look  to 
Him  for  ev'ry  need  an'  love  Him  so  well  that 
you'll  nae  be  content  away  frae  Him.  Only 
make  surrender  o'  your  whole  heart  to  His  <lr;ir 
keepin'  an'  th'  joy  an'  comfort  '11  begin  to  gr»i\v 
like  sproutin'  seeds  an'  you'll  find'  your  hands 
running  over  wi'  work  to  do  for  Him." 

"That's  what  I  mean  to  do,"  answered  M;ir, 
"for  I've  learned  that  of  myself  I  never  can 
withstand  temptation.  I  cannot  understand, 
Andy,  how  this  fearful  craving  for  liquor  has 
gotten  such  a  hold  on  me  in  these  few  months. 
Why,  it  isn't  a  year  yet  since  I  first  tasted  it." 

"It  may  be  well,"  said  Andy,  thoughtfully ; 
*"it  may  be  well,  dear  laddie,  that  you  should 
hear  the  truth  as,  I  judge,  ye've  nae  done  yet. 
Were  you  ever  told  that  old  Sterling  Caldwell, 
your  father's  father,  killed  himself  wi'  hard 
drinkin'  ?" 

"JsTever.     My  father  was  a  strict  temperance 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  360 

man,  so  far  as  I  ever  knew,  but  I — it  seems  that 
I,  then.,  am  in  the  clutches  of  heredity ;  that  the 
sins  of  the  fathers  are  visited  on  the  children's 
children  was  never  more  true  than  with  me.  I'm 
glad  you  told  me,  Andy.  I  understand  better 
now  just  what  I  have  to  do." 

A  few  evenings  after  this,  when  Andy  came 
up  to  Sky-high,  as  he  railed  the  tiny  home,  laden, 
as  usual,  with  a  basket  of  his  sister's  toothsome 
cookery,  he  found  Mac  busy  writing.  The  floor 
was  strewn  with  sheets  of  manuscript.  Their 
author  arose  and  stretched  his  muscles,  as  though 
weary. 

"I've  been  busy  all  the  afternoon,  Andy,  and 
I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  see  about  having  some 
printing  done  in  Standish." 

Andy  was  quietly  moving  abont,  emptying  his 
basket,  setting  some  of  its  contents  away  in  the 
cupboard,  arranging  other  on  the  table,  as  deftly 
as  Maggie  herself  could  have  done. 

"Now,  laddie,"  he  said,  as  finally  he  poured 
two  glasses  of  milk  from  a  big  bottle,  "draw  oop 
your  chair,  an'  while  we  eat  you'll  tell  me  what 
new  scheme's  been  filling  your  head  an'  keepin' 
you  sae  busy." 

But  Mac  was  too  deeply  interested  to  eat  be- 
fore he  had  talked. 

"I've  been  thinking  over  what  you  told  me 
24 


370  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

about  iny  grandfather,"  he  began  at  once,  "and 
I  believe  if  I  had  been  told  of  it  when  I  was  a 
very  small  boy,  and  if  some  one  had  explained  to 
me  the  horrible  effects  of  liquor-drinking  on 
body  and  mind  and  soul,  that  T  would  have  been 
on  my  guard  and  shunned  it  as  I  would  shun 
poison.  Little  chap  as  I  was  when  my  mother 
died,  I  can  remember  almost  every  word  she  ever 
spoke  to  me  about  God  and  heaven,  and  trying 
to  control  my  hot  temper  and  learning  to  act  un- 
selfishly. If  she  had  said  anything  on  this  other 
subject,  had  ever  called  my  attention  to  the  rea- 
son of  a  drunken  man's  queer  behavior,  which  I 
had,  of  course,  frequently  noticed,  but  only 
understood  in  a  vague  way  as  the  result  of  his 
drinking,  I  would  have  been,  in  some  measure 
at  least,  forewarned,  and  so  forearmed,  against 
the  wily  foe  lying  in  wait  for  me  as  his  all  too 
easy  prey. 

"I'm  not  reproaching  my  dear  mother,  mind 
you,  Andy.  She  was  as  sweet  and  true  a  woman 
as  ever  breathed.  It  probably  never  occurred  to 
her  wildest  fancies  that  her  darling,  her  innocent 
little  son,  could  ever  go  so  far  astray.  Mothers 
are  like  that,  you  know,  Andy.  Their  love 
weaves  a  sort  of  charmed  veil  about  their  chil- 
dren, which  shall  fend  off  all  evil  from  them. 
But,  alas !  we  do  not  grow  to  be  the  beautiful, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  371 

noble  creatures  our  mothers  dream  of  as  we  lie 
in  our  cradles. 

"I've  been  prayins:  that  some  line  of  active, 
practical  work  might  be  shown  me — work  that  I 
might  do  up  here ;  for  I  do  not  feel  ready  by  far 
to — to  go  down  the  mountain.  And  this  morn- 
ing, while  laying  low  that  big  chestnut  tree  I 
showed  you  yesterday,  it  flashed  over  me  that  I 
would  write  a  series  of  articles  for  the  Quarry 
children,  and  get  you  to  distribute  them. 

"Some  of  them  are  to  be  instructive,  explain- 
ing, in  a  simple,  attractive  way,  the  evil  proper- 
ties of  liquors  and  their  effects  on  the  human 
system ;  others  will  be  short  stories,  showing  the 
evil  consequences  of  the  use  of  liquor  in  the  home 
and  in  social  life  generally ;  still  others  will  be 
little  sermons  from  Scripture  texts;  quotations 
from  the  Bible  on  intemperance;  poems  that 
may  be  easily  learned  by  heart ;  bits  of  biogra- 
phy bearing  on  this  subject,  and,  last  of  all,  per- 
sonal appeals  for  the  surrender  of  heart  and  life 
to  the  only  One  who  can  enable  us  to  resist 
temptation  and  overcome  evil  tendencies  and  ac- 
tions. What  do  you  think,  Andy  ?  Is  it  prac- 
ticable ?"  he  incraired  anxiously. 

"I  think,"  said  Andy,  his  face  aglow,  "that 
th'  thought  came  straight  down  frae  th'  dear 
Lord  i'  answer  to  your  prayer,  an'  like  a'  else 


372  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

He's  done  frae  th'  creation  onward,  it  is  glide. 
O  !  laddie,  is  it  nae  grand  an'  marvellous  that  we 
liae  a  Father  i'  heaven  who  doesna  keep  us 
waitin'  an'  hopin'  an'  fearin'  when  we  once  open 
onr  hearts  to  Him  an'  ask  Him  i'  sincerity  to 
work  his  all-wise  will  in  them?  There's  nae 
more  doubt,  or  haltin'  or  specnlatin'  then,  hut  a 
broad,  bright,  heavenly  light  shines  doon  an' 
shows  ns  the  way,  clear,  sure,  step  after  step. 
This  is  to  be  th'  dear  Lord's  own  work,  Master 
Mac,  an'  you'll  be  blessed  i'  th'  doin'  o'  it,  as 
God's  workmen  always  are  blessed.  Hae  you 
thought  out  any  in  air  regardin'  it?" 

"Yes,"  Mac's  answer  came  promptly,  "I'd  like 
to  call  the  little  leaflets,  which  will  have  but  two 
or  three  pages  at  most, 

Chips  from  the  Lord's  Quarry 

for 
Sylvester  Quarry  Children. 

It's  rather  a  long  name,  I  know,  but  it  expresses 
just  their  origin  and  object." 

"It's  a  gude  name — never  mind  its  length ! 
An'  they'll  be  numbered,  likely  enough  ?" 

"Yes,  I  had  thought  of  that.  I'll  call  them 
The  Sylvester  Series,  "No.  1,  !No.  2,  and  so  on, 
and  have  them  tastefully  gotten  out  by  John 
Pixon.  You  can  attend  to  that  part." 


Tlie  Sylvester  Quarry.  373 

"What  name  is  to  be  signed  to  them  ?" 

Mac  hesitated. 

"I  hoped  you'd  be  willing  to  let  me  use  yours, 
Andy,"  he  said  slowly. 

Andy  raised  a  pair  of  incredulous  eyes. 

"And  I  not  liftin'  my  finger  to  write  a  stroke 
o'  the  pen!"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  as  nearly 
reproachful  as  MacDonald  had  ever  heard. 

Mac  smiled. 

"When  will  you  ever  begin  to  understand, 
Andy,  that  you  have  been  the  'power  behind  the 
throne/  the  muscle  behind  the  pen,  to  change  the 
old  saying  a  bit." 

But  Andy  shook  his  head. 

"Well,  1  won't  argue  with  you  again  as  I  did 
about  the  stock,  for  it  would  bo  a  waste  of  breath 
and  time.  You  are  such  a  dear  old  bundle  of  stub- 
bornness, there's  no  budging  you.  But  you  know 
that  it  would  never  do  to  sign  them  Peter  Wood- 
man. People  are  such  terribly  curious  animals ; 
I'd  have  the  whole  Quarry  up  here  in  less  than 
twenty-four  hours.  Now,  it  seems  to  me,  that  as 
you  are  my  agent  in  the  printing  and  distribu- 
tion of  these  leaflets  that  you  might  be  willing 
to  sign  them  'Andrew  Graham,  Trustee.'  Then 
people  would  be  satisfied  as  they  might  not  be 
were  the  slips  published  anonymously." 

Andy  pondered  over  this  for  some  time,  and 


374  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

then,  as  much  to  Mac's  surprise  as  delight,  he 
said: 

"You've  a  long  head  on  your  shoulders,  lad- 
die; that  last's  a  clever  thought.  Signin'  my 
name  will  ward  off  th'  pryin  an'  inquisitive  folk. 
An'  I've  no  objection  to  actin'  as  trustee  for 
either  th'  dear  Lord  or  MacDonald  Caldwell,  or 
both  o'  them  to-gether." 

So  it  was  settled.  From  that  day  on,  Peter 
Woodman  divided  his  labors  between  brawn  and 
brain,  and  could  sometimes  hardly  tell  which 
brought  to  him  the  keener  satisfaction. 

As  the  spring  days  followed  each  other  in 
beautiful  procession — sunny,  showery,  rich  in 
promise  and  full  of  budding  beauty — Mac  dis- 
covered more  and  more  of  the  nature  of  his  foe. 
There  were  long  nights  of  horror  spent  by  both 
Andy  and  himself  on  their  knees  in  prayer ;  dark 
hours,  when  it  seemed  as  though  a  physical 
demon  was  with  actual  touch  pushing  him 
towards  the  flask  of  poison ;  hours  when  ho 
caught  by  chair  or  table  to  hold  himself  back; 
whole  days  when  he  could  cnly  lie  cowering  and 
nerveless  on  his  bed,  his  eyes  covered  that  he 
should  not  see  the  silent  tempter  on  the  shelf. 
But  through  all  these  seasons  of  awful  craving, 
when  his  body  almost  sank  under  the  strain,  his 
spirit  never  for  one  moment  yielded. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  375 

"I  will  not — I  will  not — O  Father  in  heaven, 
help  me !  I  will  not !"  was  his  constant  cry  and 
prayer. 

And  help  came.  Often  for  days  together  he 
was  free.  Gradually,  as  the  pure  mountain  air 
cleared  his  brain  and  stole  the  poison  from  his 
blood,  his  muscles  grew  harder,  a  splendid  vigor 
pervaded  his  frame;  the  old  restlessness,  the 
nervous  exhaustion,  the  mental  depression,  gave 
place  to  abounding  health.  Little  by  little  he 
dared  to  think  that  his  hold  on  himself  was 
firmer ;  then,  suddenly,  without  warning,  like  a 
bolt  from  a.  clear  sky,  all  the  sunshine  was 
clouded  in  and  his  "dark  time"  was  on. 

In  this  way,  with  Andy  for  staunch,  loving 
comrade,  with  his  Bible  for  constantly-studied 
guide,  with  continual  uplifting  of  thought  and 
prayer  to  the  compassionate  Elder  Brother,  each 
day,  like  a  wave  of  inflowing  tide,  brought  him 
nearer  to  the  victory  he  had  determined  should 
be  absolute. 


•CHAPTER  XXV. 

VISITORS  AT  SKY-HIGH. 

rri  HE  March  meeting  of  the  Quarry  directors 
J-  was  put  off  for  ten  days  on  account  of  Mr. 
Standish's  unavoidable  absence  on  a  matter  of 
personal  business. 

Keith's  trip  to  New  York  had  been  one  of 
grievous  disappointment.  He  found  that  the 
Brookses  had  left  New  York  immediately  on  the 
arrival  of  the  steamer,  so  that  he  had  missed 
them  by  only  a  few  minutes.  Their  agent  told 
him  of  the  sale  of  all  their  stock,  at.  Brussels,  to 
some  party  whose  name  he  could  not  recall,  and 
of  which  he  should  not  be  able  to  inform  him- 
self until  Mr.  Tom  Brooks'  return,  ten  days  or 
so  later. 

The  directors  were  all  present  at  the  post- 
poned meeting,  at  which  time  the  regular  busi- 
ness was  transacted  with  more  than  ordinary 
dispatch.  An  indescribable  atmosphere  of  de- 
pression pervaded  the  chapel  where  they  sat. 
Not  even  the  radiant  April  sunshine,  pouring  in 
through  the  windows,  could  find  an  answering 
gleam  on  any  countenance  but  one.  Andy's 
kindly  face  was  beaming.  When  at  last  ho  got 


(Jnttrry.  377 

upon  his  feet,  holding  in  his  hand  a  small  bundle 
of  papers,  there  was  something  in  his  manner 
and  looks  before  lie  opened  his  lips,  which  drew 
jvery  eye  to  his. 

"Brethren,"  he  said  earnestly,  "th'  dear  Lord 
L  heaven  has  worked  wi'  us  frae  th'  beginning. 
Sometimes  we've  a'most  doubted  Him  an'  felt 
ready  to  gi'  up  th'  work.  But,  praise  to  His 
name,  I've  to  tell  you  to-day  o'  His  mighty  power 
to  bring  light  out  o'  darkness  an'  to  turn  upside 
down  th'  schemin'  o'  th'  adversary.  I've  here  i' 
my  hands,  holdin'  them  i'  trust  for  th'  dear 
Lord's  servant  who  bought  them  i'  my  name,  a' 
th'  stock  i'  th'  Quarry  company  that's  hitherto 
been  owned  by  th'  heirs  o'  Dana  Brooks.  It's 
been  paid  for  i'  full,  brethren,  an'  gi'es  us  th' 
majority  we've  been  sae  longin'  for.  If  I  under- 
stand it  rightly,  there's  naught  now  to  hinder  the 
Quarry  Company  from  takin'  a  strong  stand 
against  employin'  any  man  who  mak's  use  o' 
liquor  in  any  form." 

A  dead  silence  followed.  Andy  still  stood 
looking  into  the  dazed  faces  upturned  to  his.  It 
was  as  though  his  words  had  been  heard,  but 
their  meaning  had  not  yet  reached  the  under- 
standing of  the  hearers.  Gradually  belief  suc- 
ceeded incredulity;  then,  of  a  sudden,  smiles 
and  words  broke  forth  together : 


The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"Bless  the  Lord !" 

"It  can't  be,  Andy!" 

"Let's  see  the  certificate !" 

"Who  was  the  purchaser  ?" 

"Don't  stop  there — go  on!" 
were  some  of  the  exclamations  made  as,  discard- 
ing formality  in  the  excitement  and  joy  of  the 
unexpected  occurrence,  they  all  crowded  about 
the  jubilant  Andy. 

He  showed  them  the  stock  and  patiently 
answered  all  their  questions  but  one.  At  that  he 
stood  firm  as  the  Quarry  itself. 

"'No,  brethren ;  I  cannot  tell  you  the  name  o' 
the  person  who  really  owns  this  stock.  I've 
given  my  word.  Some  day  you'll  know,  an'  then 
you'll  say  that  I'm  doin'  right.  But  I  can  toll 
you  this :  "Pis  the  dear  Lord's  own  doin's  as 
straight  from  heaven  as  when  He  sent  th'  manna 
down  i'  the  wilderness.  An'  don't  let's  be  too 
long  i'  thankin'  Him  for  a'  His  wonderfu'  good- 
ness to  th'  children  o'  men." 

Out  of  a  full  heart,  Keith  voiced  the  prayer 
end  praise  of  each  one  present.  Then  they  sat 
down  again  to  wonder  and  rejoice  and  plan. 
After  a  while  the  meeting  was  called  to  order, 
and,  amid  a  hush  of  intense  feeling,  the  motion 
was  made  and  carried  which  provided  that  after 
the  first  day  of  June  no  person  using  liquor  in 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  :;7'.> 

any  way,  form  or  manner  should  remain  in  the 
employ  of  the  Sylvester  Quarry  Company,  or  be 
thereafter  employed  by  them. 

Notice  of  this  decision  was  made  public  at 
once,  and  little  else  was  talked  of  in  the  whole 
neighborhood. 

As  spring  advanced,  Violet  lived  out  of  doors 
many  hours  of  each  day. 

"The  world  was  never  so  lovely  before,"  she 
said  one  morning  to  Doctor  Strong.  "I  want  to 
enjoy  every  moment  of  it." 

So  she  went  with  him  on  his  drives  about  the 
country  much  more  than  heretofore.  Often  they 
stopped  to  gather  wild  flowers  ;  sometimes  a  rug 
was  spread  under  the  pines,  and  they  sat  for  an 
hour,  drinkin"'  in  the  spicy  fragrance  and  read- 
ing aloud ;  frequently  Berdel  made  a  third  con- 
genial comrade.  As  Violet's  vitality  waned, 
Berdel's  increased,  until  sometimes  for  days 
together  she  was  free  from  pain. 

"It  seems  too  good  to  be  true,"  she  said  one 
day  to  Violet,  while  they  were  sitting  in  the  com- 
fortable low  open  carriage  before  the  home  of 
one  of  the  Doctor's  patients,  waiting  for  him  to 
come  out.  "I'm  so  glad  for  Jackadel's  sake.  It 
has  been  hard  for  him  to  carry  such  a  burden 
all  these  years." 


380  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"O!  dear  Berdel,"  protested  Violet,  "don't 
think  of  it  in  that  way.  If  you  could  only  know 
how  often,  how  almost  daily,  he  tells  me  what  a 
comfort  and  blessing  you  have  always  been  to 
him.  Any  one  who  sees  you  together  can  never 
doubt  that  you  are  the  very  light  of  his  eyes. 
We've  all  noticed  how  happy  he  is  this 
spring." 

Berdel's  clear  eyes  were  bent  searchingl y  upon 
the  beautiful,  animated  face  of  her  companion. 
She  would  have  welcomed  a  less  frank  expres- 
sion of  interest  in  her  brother's  happiness,  a 
flush  of  self -consciousness ;  for  she  knew  only 
too  well  that  the  secret  of  his  bouyant  light- 
heartedness  was  the  hope  that  time  was  bringing 
him  his  own  intense  desire.  Blinded  by  his  love, 
he  read  in  Violet's  growing  dependence  upon 
him  a  deepening,  if  unconscious,  affection, 
rather  than  an  instinctive  leaning  on  a  strong 
arm.  For  she  had  turned  to  him  almost  un- 
awares since  Keith's  natural  preoccupation  with 
Louise  and  the  many  engrossing  thoughts  con- 
cerning their  new  life  together. 

But  no  faintest  shadow  of  a  knowledge  of  the 
true  state  of  things  on  Violet's  part  rewarded 
Berdel's  keen  glance.  Should  she  venture  to 
probe  ever  so  delicately  beneath  the  surface  ? 

"I  have  often  wished  that  Jackadel  would  fall 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  381 

genuinely  in  love  with  some  dear  girl  and  win 
lier.  lie  would  be  the  most  devoted  of  husbands 
and  much  happier  than  I  can  make  him,"  she 
said  softly,  never  taking  her  eyes  from  Violet's 
face. 

"Maybe  he  will  when  he  finds  one  dearer  and 
sweeter  than  his  sister/'  laughed  Violet.  "Here 
he  comes  now.  I've  a  mind  to  tell  him  how  you 
want  to  put  him  off  on  some  one  else." 

"O !  no !  please !"  begged  Berdel  hastily, 
dreading  lest  Violet's  very  openness  might 
wound  him. 

"Very  well,  I'll  let  you  off  this  time,"  said 
Violet,  "but  don't  let  me  hear  any  such  cruel  sug- 
gestions again.  We  want  our  blessed  Doctor  all 
to  ourselves  for — well,  ever  so  long  yet." 

"Until  summer  anyway,"  she  finished  in  her 
thoughts.  And  for  the  first  time  it  occurred  to 
her  to  wonder  what  she  should  do  if  his  dear, 
kind,  continual  presence  should  be  taken  from 
her  life.  She  lay  back  against  her  cushions  quite 
silent  as  they  made  their  way  along  the  moun- 
tain ridge,  trying  to  put  this  new  and  disquieting 
thought  out  of  her  mind.  She  looked  at  the 
springing  verdure  by  the  roadside,  the  graceful 
greenery  bursting  out  everywhere ;  at  old 
friends,  blue-bell,  anemone,  bloodroot,  nodding 
their  pretty  heads  in  welcome;  but  her  glance 


382  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

strayed  back  to  the  stalwart  outlines  of  head  and 
shoulders  just  in  front  of  her. 

"How  strong  and  fine  he  is,"  she  thought. 
Then  other  outlines,  dear  and  longed-for,  rose 
beside  his,  while  memories  crowded  thick  and 
fast. 

Her  continued  silence  attracted  Doctor 
Strong's  attention.  He  turned  around  to  speak 
a  laughing  word. 

"You  should  have  told  me  that  you  were  feel- 
ing ill,"  he  cried,  startled  by  her  pallor.  "Ber- 
del,  why  didn't  you — 

"O  !  it  is  nothing,  Doctor.  I'm  not  ill  at  all," 
interrupted  Violet,  the  color  rushing  to  her  face 
now  in  a  flood.  "Please  don't  make  a  fuss  about 
nothing." 

"Xo,  I  will  not,"  he  replied,  surveying  her 
gravely.  "It  is  a  good  deal  of  a  something  that 
you  should  be  all  tired  out.  And  there  isn't  a 
house  nearer  than  Andy  Graham's,  three  miles 
away.  O !  yes,  there  is.  We'll  pay  a  visit  to 
Peter  Woodman's  solitary  cabin  and  get  a  glass 
of  the  fine  spring  water  not  far  from  there." 

He  touched  the  horses  lightly  with  his  whip, 
and  the  carriage  rolled  swiftly  over  the  grass- 
grown  road. 

"I've  been  wishing  I  could  see  him,"  said 
Violet.  "Keith  told  me  of  him  one  day  when 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  383 

\ve  were  up  here.  We  drove  in  to  the  wood  lot, 
but  the  little  house  was  closed.  He's  an  odd  fel- 
low to  care  to  live  way  off  here  all  alone,  isn't 
he  ?  Is  he  an  old  man  ?" 

"It's  hard  to  tell  his  age.  His  beard  is  not 
grey  and  he  seems  vigorous,  but  one  can  hardly 
imagine  a  young  man  choosing  such  a  life.  He 
seldom  is  seen  in  the  village,  they  tell  me,  and 
then  says  no  more  than  is  absolutely  necessary 
to  make  a  purchase  or  two.  I've  met  him  once 
or  twice  far  over  on  the  Lindenderry  side  of  the 
mountain.  Perhaps  he's  from  the  other  valley. 
I've  wondered  sometimes  if  he  were  not  the 
author  of  these  leaflets  Andy  distributes,  and 
which  are  doing  so  much  good  among  the  young 
people  of  the  Quarry  village.  I  asked  Andy 
once,  but  I  didn't  know  any  more  after  I  heard 
his  perfectly  civil,  truthful  answer  than  I  did 
before.  That  man  is  a  wonder." 

"But  why  should  Peter  Woodman  be  so  inter- 
ested in  the  Quarry  when  he  keeps  so  aloof  from 
it?"  asked  Violet. 

"I  can't  tell  you,  and  I  may  be  entirely  wrong 
in  my  surmise.  But  there  surely  is  no  one  else 
in  the  village  or  neighborhood  who  could  write 
them  that  I  know  of.  They  are  scholarly  and 
yet  beautifully  adapted  to  their  purpose." 

"Perhaps  we  can  introduce  the  subject  in 


384  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

some  way  to-day,"  remarked  Berdel.  "My  curi- 
osity is  quite  on  the  qui  vive.  I  think  I  see  him 
now,  swinging  his  axe  like  a  Hercules.  He  is 
not  an  old  man,  Jackadel,  that's  sure." 

•  They  had  driven  quite  near  the  cabin  before 
the  wood-chopper,  at  some  little  distance,  heard 
or  saw  them.  His  rap  was  off:  also  his  big  blue 
goggles.  He  turned  instantly  and  put  both  on, 
but  not  before  Violet's  quick  eye  had  seen  and 
recognized  a  peculiar  swift  tossing  back  of  the 
hair  from  his  forehead  always  indicative  of 
strong  emotion  on  Mac's  part. 

She  stifled  the  exclamation  of  joyful  wonder 
which  sprang  from  her  heart  before  it  escaped 
her  lips  and  sat  breathlessly  still,  every  nerve 
alert,  controlled.  For  she  knew,  in  the  midst  of 
her  whirling  thoughts,  that  Mac  had  some  good 
reason  for  this  strange  incognito,  and  she  was 
determined  not  to  betray  him  by  look  or  sign. 
She  was  quite  white  with  excitement,  thereby 
arousing  the  Doctor's  keenest  apprehensions. 

He  tied  the  horses  to  a  tree,  at  the  same  time 
hallooing  to  Peter  to  come  nearer.  But  the 
wood-chopper,  after  his  one  instant  recognition 
of  his  visitors,  was  hard  at  work  again,  making 
the  chips  fly  about  in  showers.  He,  too,  seemed 
to  be  at  the  center  of  a  storm  of  emotion  ;  but  he 
was  not,  like  Violet,  affected  to  absolute  stillness. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

The  need  of  action,  violent  action,  was  impera- 
tive to  counteract  his  longing  to  rush  forward 
and  seize  his  dear,  drooping  Violet  in  his  arms, 
bearing  her  forever  far  away  from  the  "old 
idiot's"  devoted  ministrations.  It  was  almost  as 
hot  a  battle  as  those  he  fought  with  his  dread 
foe,  and  only  the  stinging  thought  of  his  un- 
worthiness  to  even  come  into  her  pure  presence 
kept  his  body  at  its  vigorous  task,  while  his 
whole  eager,  insistent  heart  was  with  Violet. 
Even  from  so  far  away  he  had  clearly  seen  her 
pale,  wasted  features.  He  dared  not  take  an- 
other look,  but  resolutely  turned  his  back,  wield- 
ing his  axe  like  a  giant. 

"Hey,  there,  Peter  Woodman !"  shouted  Doc- 
tor Strong,  striding  rapidly  towards  him.  "Hal- 
loo, there,  I  say !" 

There  was  no  use  pretending  not  to  hear  the 
trumpet-like  voice.  He  half-turned,  leaning  on 
his  axe  handle. 

"Will  you  lend  us  a  cup,  please,  and  allow  us 
to  get  some  water  from  your  spring  ?" 

"You'll  find  one  hanging  on  a  nail  just  inside 
the  door.  The  spring's  under  the  big  oak  tree 
yonder,"  he  called  back,  pointing  off  to  the  east. 

"Thank  you." 

"By  the  time  the  Doctor  had  turned  to  come 
back.  Violet,  who  had  heard  every  word,  was  out 
35 


386  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

of  the  carriage.  A  few  quick  steps  and  she  had 
opened  the  door  of  the  cabin  and  stood  within. 
Every  detail  of  the  tiny,  spotless  room  was 
stamped  immediately  upon  her  memory  in  a 
twinkling.  The  two  iron  bedsteads,  the  cup- 
board, the  steamer  trunk  with  its  tell-tale  rug, 
the  shelf,  with  Bible  and  flask  in  strange  com- 
radeship ;  and,  dearest  sight  of  all,  a  little  glass 
of  wild  violets  standing  beside  a  pile  of  books  on 
the  table.  Their  sweet  faces  told  their  own 
silent  story  to  the  girl's  throbbing  heart  and 
made  assurance  of  the  precious  truth  doubly  cer- 
tain. She  did  not  linger  in  the  charmed  place, 
where  she  would  have  been  glad  to  stay  and  feast 
her  eyes,  but  met  the  Doctor  on  the  threshold, 
cup  in  hand. 

"Naughty  child  !"  he  said,  taking  it  from  her. 
"Get  back  in  the  carriage  at  once.  This  ground 
is  too  cold  and  damp  for  you  to  walk  on." 

Quite  demurely  she  obeyed.  Chatting  mer- 
rily with  Berdel,  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  Peter 
Woodman,  who,  all  of  a  sudden,  threw  down  his 
axe  and  disappeared  behind  the  trees. 

"Peter  evidently  doesn't  like  lady  visitors," 
commented  Berdel,  as  the  Doctor  brought  to 
them  the  dripping  cup  of  clear,  delicious  wjitor. 
"I  see  that  I  shall  not  have  any  chance  to  inquire 
about  the  leaflets.  But  we  must  come  again  and 
hope  for  better  luck." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  387 

"O  yes  !  let's  come  to-morrow  morning  early," 
said  Violet,  so  eagerly  that  both  her  companions 
turned  to  look  at  her  in  surprise.  A  pretty  rose 
color  flushed  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  were 
radiant.  It  was  simply  impossible  for  her  to 
keep  back  the  happy  light  with  which  they  were 
t] ooi led  or  the  impetuous  wish  she  had  so  rashly 
uttered. 

"We  certainly  will  do  so,  if  every  draught 
from  Peter  Woodman's  spring  is  to  have  such  a 
transforming  effect  upon  my  patient,"  assented 
1  )octor  Strong,  smiling  down  upon  her.  "Some 
sort  of  magic  is  surely  at  work." 

"O !  if  you  only  guessed  how  exactly  right 
yon  are,  YOU  dear,  unsuspecting  Doctor !"  whis- 
pered Violet  to  herself.  "It  is  the  swertot 
magic  in  all  the  world.  Oh!  Mac!  Mac!  How 
can  I  keep  this  dear  secret?  Only  to  think  that 
you  are  here  and  safe  is  joy  enough  for  a  whole 
lifetime.  What  will  it  be  when  you  are  with  us 
once  more !" 

For  Violet  knew,  by  a  sure  instinct,  that  the 
very  fact  of  his  return  in  such  a  guise  proved 
the  severance  of  all  ties  which  bound  him  to  his 
life  of  dissipation. 

She  strained  her  eyes  for  another  glimpse  of 
the  wood-chopper  as  they  drove  off,  but  none  was 
to  be  seen. 


388  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

The  next  morning  Andy  received  a  note. 

"Dear  Andy,"  it  ran,  "can  you  come  down  to 
see  me  for  a  few  minutes  some  time  to-day  ?  It 
is  important.  Sincerely, 

"VIOLET  SYLVESTER. 

"Little  Acorns,  Wednesday  morning." 

He  arrived  just  after  supper,  and  was  showrn 
up  to  Violet's  sitting-room. 

"How  well  you're  lookin',  Miss  Violet,"  was 
his  almost  involuntary  greeting,  so  struck  was  he 
with  her  bright,  glad  expression. 

She  laughed  cheerily. 

"Yes,  Andy,  I  am  well,  now.  We  were  up  at 
Peter  Woodman's  place  yesterday;  Doctor 
Strong  gave  me  a  drink  of  his  spring  water, 
and — it  must  have  wonderful  properties,  for  I 
feel  like  another  creature  since  drinking  it." 

This  was  said  with  the  most  innocent  air  in 
the  world ;  but  all  the  while  her  eager  blue  eyes 
were  trying  to  read  her  companion's  imperturba- 
ble countenance. 

"There's  a  good  mony  wonderfu'  things  oop 
on  that  mountain,  Miss  Violet.  Only  folks  don't 
often  climb  high  enough  t'  find  'em  out." 

"I  think  Peter  must  be  very  lonelv  there.  Do 
you  suppose  he  would  like  this  little  pot  of  sweet 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  389 

violets  ?  They  are  all  in  bloom  now,  and  will  fill 
his  liny  house  with  their  fragrance." 

Again  the  soft  blue  eyes  looked  frankly  up- 
ward. This  time  an  answering  twinkle  sprang 
into  the  grey  ones,  and  Andy's  whole  face  lighted 
up.  He  came  close  to  Violet  and  took  both  her 
hands  in  his  own  big,  gentle  clasp.  He  held 
them  for  a  long  minute  without  speaking ;  then, 
as  he  released  them,  said : 

"'Twill  be  th'  very  breath  o'  life  tae  him,  Miss 
Violet.  I'll  tak  them  gladly." 

That  was  all,  but  it  was  enough,  and  their  two 
hearts  were  lightened.  Andy  left  the  house, 
bearing  his  precious  gift,  knowing  that  Mac's 
presence  had  been  discovered  by  the  one  dearest 
of  all  to  him.  Violet  rejoiced  in  the  confirma- 
tion of  her  already  certain  knowledge.  She  went 
about  with  deep  happiness  in  her  heart,  glad 
songs  on  her  lips,  and  a  general  overflowing  ex- 
uberance of  life  and  spirits  amazing  to  those  who 
loved  her.  ~No  one  could  understand  or  account 
for  the  sudden  change  in  her. 

"I  do  hope  it  will  not  be  long  before  they  all 
know,"  she  said  to  herself,  "for  I  feel  like  the 
slyest  of  hypocrites,  and  oh  !  I  long  to  have  them 
all  as  happy  as  I  am !  I  wonder  why  he  doesn't 
come  down  and  reveal  himself  ?  It's  no  use  to 
nsk  Andy  anything.  I  shall  have  to  pay  Peter 


300  The  Silvester  Quarry. 

himself  a  visit,  I  guess,  for  I  never  in  the  world 
can  wait  much  longer." 

At  the  same  time  she  felt  a  natural  reluctance 
to  making  advances  in  the  face  of  Mac's  evident 
desire  for  concealment.  Day  after  day  passed 
with  no  sign.  Although  buoyed  up  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  presence,  not  far  away,  she  be- 
came concerned  over  his  strange,  solitary  life 
and  his  persistent  seclusion.  The  burden  of  her 
secret  weighed  upon  her  until  she  began  to  sink 
under  it.  She  grow  pale  again  and  distrait. 

"Something  is  worrying  her,"  Doctor  Strong 
said  to  Berdel  one  evening,  "just  as  something 
happened  to  exhilarate  her  a  week  ago.  I  won- 
der/' he  cried,  springing  up  from  his  chair  and 
walking  hurriedly  up  and  down  the  little  room, 
"if  she  can  be  hearing  from — from  Mac  ?" 

"It  W7ould  not  be  strange,  Jackadel,"  replied 
his  sister,  <rentlv. 

"No,  it  would  not.  The  strange  thing  is  that 
he  could  ever  leave  her.  And — I  ought — I 
will — I  do  welcome  anything  which  will  make 
her  happy.  If  I  could  only  be  sure  that  his  love 
would  make  her  so,  but — oh  !  Berdel !" 

And  with  the  cry  lie  knelt  beside  her,  hungry 
for  the  comfort  of  her  true  heart. 


CHAPTEE  XXVI. 

SUNIMSE  ON  AMMONET  MOUNTAIN. 

WHENAndy  and  the  potof  violets  reached 
Sky-High,  Mac  was  sitting  at  the  table 
\vriting  busily,  trying  by  hard  work  to  shut  out 
memories  and  longings  which  distracted  him. 
But  from  every  page  a  sweet,  wistful  face  looked 
up  and  presently  a  delicious  fragrance  stole  upon 
his  senses.  He  turned  about  with  keen,  inquir- 
ing glance.  Andy,  mute  but  radiant,  stepped 
within  and  set  his  eloquent  burden  on  the  table. 
He  gave  one  swift  glance  into  Mac's  flushing, 
paling  face,  then,  with  instinctive  delicacy,  he 
started  to  leave  the  cabin. 

But  Mac  sprang  forward,  laying  a  detaining 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"O  !  don't  go,  Andy.  Tell  me — are  they  from 
her  ?  How  could  she  know  ?" 

"How  do  th'  wrild  flowers  know  when  th'  sun 
shines  out  warm  'n  lovin'  after  th'  winter's  cold  ? 
How  does  th'  cooin'  dove  know  when  her  mate 
cooms  near  ?  Dinna  expect  a  rough  man  lak  me 
tae  tell  you  th'  secret  ways  o'  a  young  maid's 
heart.  She  does  know  'n  th'  knowin'  has  brought 


392  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

th'  life  n'  tli'  liclit  again  to  her  bonny  blue  eyes. 
An',  Master  Mac,  dinna  ye  be  aye  longer  givin' 
her  th'  coomfort  o'  your  presence.  It's  only  by 
th'  tender  mercies  o'  your  Heavenly  Father  that 
she's  been  spared  through  a'  these  weary  weeks. 
An'  these  flowers,  sac  modest  'n  sae  sweet,  jes' 
lak  her  sonsy  self,  are  His  own  message  sent  to 
you  to  tell  you  that  your  time  o'  hidin'  away 
has  coom  t'  an  end.  Gao  back  noo  Jo  her  an'  a' 
th'  rest  who  love  you  sae  dearly,  an'  tak  th'  wark 
a'  ready  to  your  han'.  Peter's  wark  has  been 
well  done,  an'  I  don't  deny  th'  lad's  made  him- 
self very  dear  to  my  heart;  but  MacDonald  is 
dearer  still  an'  I'm  sair  longin'  to  see  him  coom 
into  his  own  once  mair." 

Mac  bent  over  the  mass  of  fragrant  bloom 
with  hovering,  outstretched  hands,  as  though  he 
would  press  the  sweet  blue  blossoms  to  his  lips. 
He  turned  a  beseeching  face  towards  Andy. 

"Don't  tempt  me,  Andy,"  he  cried  piteously. 
"Don't  try  to  make  me  believe  that  I  am  ready 
yet;  that  I  am  strong  enough." 

"Nay,  lad,  I'll  nae  do  that.  I've  said  what  I 
believe  with  all  my  heart;  but  I'll  nae  try  to 
mak  you  see  this  wi'  my  eyes.  Tak  a'  the  coom- 
fort she  meant  you  to  frae  th'  pot  o'  violets  an' 
you'll  be  seein'  th'  next  step  clear  as  sunshine 
afore  th'  pretty  blooms  are  withered  up." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  393 

The  "next  step"  was  seen  and  taken  sooner 
than  either  anticipated. 

That  very  evening,  when  the  mail  bag  for  Lit- 
tle Acorns  was  brought  in  and  opened  at  the 
supper  table,  Keith  received  a  letter  from  the 
agent  of  the  Brooks'  heirs.  He  read  it  through 
twice,  with  growing  excitement,  and  finally 
startled  his  companions  by  exclaiming;: 

''Thank  God  !    Only  listen  to  this,  Jeanie  : 


YORK,  April  20,  18—. 
"  'Rev.  Keith  Dennet: 

"  'Dear  Sir,  —  Mr.  Tom  Brooks  having  re- 
turned to  the  city,  I  am  able  to  give  you  the 
name  of  the  man  who  bought  the  Sylvester 
Quarry  stock  belonging  to  the  heirs  of  the  late 
Dana  Brooks.  It  is  MacDonald  Caldwell,  and 
he  made  the  purchase  in  the  name  of  Andrew 
Graham,  of  Sylvester. 

"  'Very  truly  yours, 

"  'JAMES  ALDEN,  Agent.'  '' 

"Why,  Keith  !"  exclaimed  Janet,  rising  from 
her  chair  and  coming  around  to  look  over  his 
shoulder,  "what  does  it  mean  ?  How  could  Mac 
do  this  ?  Where  is  he  ?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you  that,  dear  ;  but  it  is  blessed 


394  The  Sylvester  Quany. 

enough  to  know  that  our  dear  boy  has  come  to 
himself  and  has  been  led  to  do  this  wonderful 
thing  for  the  Quarry  people.  Thank  God ! 
Thank  God !" 

Janet  saw  the  tears  standing  in  Keith's  eyes 
and  heard  his  voice  choking  with  sobs.  She  could 
hardly  comprehend  the  truth  even  yet,  but  her 
heart  was  beating  fast  in  sympathy  for  his  glad- 
ness. A  glimpse  of  Violet's  glowing  face  across 
thG  table  but  added  to  her  bewilderment. 

"Did  you,  too,  know?"  she  asked  eagerly. 
"And  where  is  Mac  now  ?  Why  doesn't  he  come 
home  ?" 

It  was  Keith's  turn  to  show  surprise,  as  he 
also  looked  over  at  Violet.  She  heard  his  first 
reproachful  word  as  he  sprang  up  and  came 
quickly  to  her  side: 

"How  could  you  keep  it  from  us,  Violet 
dear?" 

"I  didn't  know  of  this.  I  found  out  something 
else  several  days  ago  which  I  must  tell  you  of. 
But,  dear  Keith,  let  us  first  send  over  for  Louise. 
The  others  can  wait  a  little  longer ;  I  want  her 
to  hear  this  with  us." 

"I'll  go  myself,"  and  he  was  off  before  the 
words  were  scarcely  uttered. 

"What  has  happened  ?"  Louise  inquired  curi- 
ously, on  entering  the  room  a  few  minutes  later, 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  395 

"that  I  am  whisked  off  so  unceremoniously  and 
not  told  one  word  on  the  way  over  ?" 

Violet  gave  Keith  a  grateful  glance. 

"That  was  nice  of  you,  Keith,  to  let  me  be  the 
one  to  tell  her  every  bit.  Well,  Louise  dear,  the 
very  best  thing  in  the  world  has  happened.  Mac 
lias  come  home,  and  we've  just  found  out  that  it 
is  he  who  bought  the  stock  from  the  Brooks'. 
So,  it  is  really  he  who  has  made  it  possible  for 
the  use  and  sale  of  liquor  to  be  prohibited  in 
Sylvester  forever.  Isn't  that  glorious  ?" 

Like  Janet,  Louise  was  quite  dazed.  She 
looked  from  one  beaming  face  to  another,  hardly 
able  to  take  in  the  good  news. 

"Come,  sit  here  close  beside  me  and  I'll  tell 
you  all  about  it.  Keith  and  Jeanie  haven't  heard 
my  part  of  the  story  yet.  And  I  won't  wait  an- 
other second  before  saying  that  Mac  and  Peter 
Woodman  are  one.and  the  same!" 

"Peter  Woodman  !"  ejaculated  Keith.  "Vio- 
let, it  can  never  be!" 

"Oh-h !"  came  in  a  prolonged  note  of  amaze- 
ment from  Janet,  while  Louise  sat  as  if  spell- 
bound, gazing  at  Violet  with  wide  eyes. 

"Yes,  Peter  Woodman,"  repeated  Violet,  en- 
joying their  incredulous  amazement  and  de- 
lighted to  be  telling  them  the  wonderful  fact. 
"Doctor  Strong  took  Berdel  and  me  in  there 


396  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

about  a  week  ago  to  get  some  water  from  the 
spring  near  the  cabin.  We  saw  Peter  off  at  a 
little  distance,  chopping  down  a  tree.  His  cap 
and  a  pair  of  great  blue  goggles  were  lying  on  a 
log.  You  should  have  seen  the  speed  with  which 
he  clapped  them  on  when  he  caught  sight  of  us. 
But  he  wasn't  quite  quick  enough.  I'd  know 
Mac's  high  head  anywhere,  and  when  he  gave 
his  hair  that  swift  little  toss  backward,  as  he 
always  did  when  surprised  or  greatly  excited — 
you  remember,  don't  you,  Louise? — I  knew  in 
an  instant  who  it  was.  All  this  was  while  Doctor 
Strong  was  calling  out  to  him  about  the  dipper, 
and  Mac,  in  a  great  gruff  voice,  hallooed  back 
that  it  was  hanging  on  a  nail  behind  the  door. 
It  didn't  take  me  long  to  slip  out  of  the  carriage 
and  open  the  door.  Once  inside,  I  made  good 
use  of  my  eyes.  Things  were  all  as  neat  as  a 
pin.  There  were  two  iron  bedsteads — you  may 
be  sure  Andy  doesn't  let  him  stay  up  there  alone 
all  the  time — a  steamer  trunk  with  a  rug  over  it ; 
a  lot  of  books,  and — and  a  few  other  things," 
concluded  Violet,  rather  lamely,  blushing  like  a 
rose.  Somehow,  she  couldn't  speak,  even  to 
them,  of  the  handful  of  her  name-flowers. 

"And  is  that  all  ?"  asked  Keith,  noticing  her 
embarrassment. 

aYes.     We  got  the  water  and  I  tried  to  see 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  397 

Peter  again,  but  lie  dropped  his  axe  and  went  off 
into  the  forest.  The — the  next  time  Andy  came 
down  here,  I — I  asked  him  if  Peter  were  not 
very  lonely  up  there,  and  from  the  way  he  an- 
swered me,  but  more  than  all  from  his  looks,  I 
feel  sure  that  I  am  right." 

"Does  Mac  know  that  you  recognized  him  ?" 
asked  Keith,  still  quite  skeptical  as  to  his  iden- 
tity with  Peter  Woodman.  That  Mac  should 
come  back  in  disguise  and  live  in  such  solitary 
fashion  on  the  heights  of  Ammonet  Mountain 
seemed  such  a  preposterous  idea. 

Again  the  crimson  flush  flooded  Violet's  cheek 
and  brow. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  murmured,  suddenly  feel- 
ing very  weary.  "I  sent  him  a — a  sort  of  mes- 
sage, but  he  has  not  replied  to  it.  I  wish  you 
would  go  up  in  the  morning.  Won't  you,  Cousin 
Keith  ?" 

"I  surely  will,  dear.  And  now  you  must  finish 
your  supper  and  then  lie  down  to  rest.  All  this 
excitement  is  not  good  for  you." 

She  smiled  a  little,  nestling  down  among  the 
pillows  on  the  lounge. 

"I'm  not  hungry.  I'll  be  good  and  lie  here 
while  you  tell  Louise  about  the  letter  that  came 
to-night.  Then  she  will  understand." 

"But  I  can't  understand,"  said  Janet,  who 


398  The  Srlvester  Quarry. 

had  been  silently  thinking  it  all  over,  "why  Mac 
should  come  back  in  such  a  strange  way." 

alt  isn't  altogether  clear  to  me,"  answered 
Keith.  "But  we  shall  soon  know,  for  I  shall 
start  up  the  mountain  at  daylight.  If  it  \vriv 
not  for  our  preparatory  service  I  would  go  to- 
night." 

Ammonet  Valley  was  flushed  with  the  rosy 
light  of  approaching  sunrise  as  Keith  rode 
quickly  up  the  familiar  roadside  the  next  morn- 
ing. His  thoughts  were  busy  with  all  the  won- 
derful news  of  the  evening  before;  his  heart 
throbbed  high  with  anticipation,  even  while  his 
judgment  warned  him  to  be  prepared  for  disap- 
pointment. He  had  nearly  reached  the  wond- 
road,  when  a  sharp  turn  brought  him  face  to  face 
with  Andy  and  Mac.  The  latter,  secure  in  the 
early  morning  hour,  wTas  without  disguise. 

In  the  instant  of  meeting  everything  was  for- 
gotten except  the  joy  of  each  other's  presence. 
A  swift  spring  from  the  horse,  a  close,  thrilling 
hand-clasp,  and  a  silence  saying  more  than  many 
words  could  have  done,  bridged  the  past,  with  its 
hateful  memories,  and  brought  Mac  fully  and 
forever  "to  his  own  again." 

It  was  Andy  who  spoke  first,  in  his  tactful, 
considerate  way : 

"Master  Mac  was  just  consultin'  wi'  me  aboot 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  399 

th'  leaflets  he's  workin'  on ;  but  I'm  nae  sae  good 
an  adviser  as  you'll  be.  Perhaps  ye'll  hae  th' 
time  tae  walk  oop  tae  th'  cabin  an'  gi'  him  your 
mind  i'  th'  matter." 

He  said  this  as  simply  as  though  Keith  were 
well  acquainted  with  the  whole  situation.  The 
cue  was  taken  as  quickly  as  it  had  been  given. 

''With  all  the  pleasure  in  the  world,  if  you 
wish  it,  Mac,"  came  with  prompt  heartiness  in 
response. 

"Yes,  do  come,"  said  Mac,  simply. 

Keith  threw  an  arm  around  the  young  man's 
shoulder,  as  in  the  old  days,  and  with  a  farewell 
word  to  Andy,  the  two  walked  slowly  along  the 
grassy  road.  Once  they  stopped  by  mutual  im- 
pulse, turning  toward  the  sun,  now  risen  in 
splendor  and  flooding  the  whole  beautiful  world 
below  them  with  glory.  At  the  sight,  Keith's 
thankful  heart  burst  forth  in  the  words  of  the 
Psalmist : 

"The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God ;  and 
the  firmament  shewcth  his  handiwork. 

"Day  unto  dav  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto 
night  sheweth  knowledge. 

"There  is  no  speech  nor  language  where  their 
voice  is  not  heard. 

"Their  line  is  gone  through  all  the  earth,  and 
their  words  to  the  end  of  the  world.  In  them 
1  in tli  He  set  a  tabernacle  for  the  sun, 


400  The  8r  Ivester  Quarry. 

''Which  is  as  a  bridegroom  coming  out  of  his 
chamber,  and  rejoiceth  as  a  strong  man  to  run  a 
race 

"Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul:  and  all  that  is 
within  me,  bless  His  holy  name. 

"Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all 
his  benefits." 

Then,  after  an  instant's  pause,  he  went  on 
very  gently : 

"Who  fcrgiveth  all  thine  iniquities;  who 
healeth  all  thy  diseases ;  who  redeemetli  thy  life 
from  destruction ;  who  crowneth  thee  with  lov- 
ing kindness  and  tender  mercies ;  who  satisfied: 
thy  mouth  with  good  things ;  so  that  thy  youth 

is  renewed  like  the  eagle's 

.  .  "Unto  you  that  fear  my  name  shall 
the  Sun  of  righteousness  arise  .with  healing  in 
His  wings 

.  .  .  "Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul :  and  all 
that  is  within  me,  bless  His  holy  name." 

Mac  made  no  reply,  except  to  clasp  Keith's 
hand  with  a  close  grip. 

"I  had  a  letter  from  the  Brooks'  agent  last 
night,  Mac,  telling  me  who  bought  the  stock  in 
Andy's  name,  and  Violet  could  not  longer  keep 
to  herself  the  happy  secret  her  loving  heart  dis- 
covered when  she  was  up  here  last  week.  And 
so,  dear  boy,  I've  come  to  take  you  home." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  401 

He  felt  the  tremor  which  shook  Mac  from 
head  to  foot. 

"Not,  yet,  Mr.  Keith,  not  yet,"  he  murmured. 
"I've  a  lone:  story  to  tell  you.  Can  you  hear  it 
now  ?" 

"Why  should  I  hear  it  at  all?"  asked  Keith. 
"It  is  enough  for  me,  for  us  all,  to  know  that 
you  are  here,  your  old  self.  There  can — 

"But  I  am  not  my  old  self,  Mr.  Keith,"  Mac 
burst  out  with  a  groan.  "I  am  a  shameful  wreck 
of  the  man  I  might  have  been.  I  deserve  nothing 
but  contempt  from  you— all.  I  feel  like  a  very 
Judas  coming  back  to  the  eleven.  Don't  ask  me 
to  come — to  come  home,  Mr.  Keith.  Don't 
tempt  me — I  cannot  do  it  now.  Sometimes  I 
think  I  never  can.  In  my  desperation  and  hun- 
ger for  help  I  crawled  back  to  Andy,  who  has 
been  an  angel  of  strength  and  loving  sympathy. 
I  have  not  yet  been  strong  enough  to  stand  alone, 
nor  to  tear  myself  awav  from  the  sight  of  all  that 
is  dear  to  me  in  the  world  ;  but  I  shall  be  soon ; 
I  must  be.  There  is  work — hard,  inspiring 
work — for  me  out  in  the  world's  dark  places. 
There  I  shall  go  and  give  my  life  for  the 
helping  of  some  other  lad  such  as  I  was.  I 
feel  especially  drawn  to  those  in  whose  innocent 
hearts  the  seeds  of  this  awful  curse  was  planted 
before  their  birth.  It  is  to  them  in  particular 
26 


402  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

that  I  am  praying  to  be  sent.  And  I  beg  you, 
Mr.  Keith,  to  keep  my  name  from  being  known 
in  connection  with  the  Brooks'  stock.  Andy 
really,  in  the  sight  of  God,  is  the  one  who  owns 
it.  Some  day  I'll  tell  you  of  his  heaven-given 
courage  and  divine  tenderness  that  morning  at 
the  Kunnymede.  The  memory  of  it  never  left 
me  until  it  cut  the  last  tie  which  bound  me  to  my 
evil  life  and  brought  me  back  to  him." 

"You  ask  too  much,  dear  Mac,"  Keith  an- 
swered gravely.  "I  can  appreciate  something  of 
your  feeling  in  regard  to  the  matter  of  the  stock, 
and  also  in  regard  to  coming  back  to  your  old 
place.  But  do  you  not  know,  my  boy,  that  for- 
giving is  forgetting  ?  The  Heavenly  Father  for- 
gives by  blotting  out  every  memory  or  trace  of 
the  sin.  We,  who  love  you,  have  done  as  He 
would  have  us  in  this.  We  hate  the  sin  ;  we  put 
it  far  from  us,  even  in  thought ;  but  we  love  the 
dear  lad  who  was  once  the  sinner,  now  the  repen- 
tant, noble  man  we  are  proud  of ;  and  we  long  for 
him,  Mac,  with  longings  which  cannot  be  ut- 
tered. Are  you  doing  right  to  turn  your  back  on 
such  love  and  confidence  as  we  gladly  offer  you  ?" 

"Come,"  Mac  said,  turning  towards  the  cabin. 
Once  inside,  he  showed  Keith  the  flask. 

"This  fight  is  not  fought  to  the  death  yet. 
When  it  is  I  will  come  back ;  not  before." 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  403 

lie  folded  his  arms,  his  face  white,  his  reso- 
lute look  straight  into  Keith's  eye. 

"O !  Mac !  Come  back  and  let  us  help  you 
when  the  tempter  must  bo  met,"  begged  Keith. 
"It  surely  cannot  be  that  he  will  assail  you  much 
longer." 

"So  much  the  more  reason  why  I  must  wait 
until  he  is  under  mv  feet.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  shall  never  be  freed  from  this  bitter  curse ;  or 
not  for  many  years.  I've  no  fear  of  falling 
again.,  with  God's  help;  but  it  may  be  I'm  to 
grow  strong  only  with  constant  battling.  It  may 
be  that  so  I  can  be  kept  in  closer  sympathy  with 
other  wretched  souls  whose  feet  are  not  yet 
planted  on  the  everlasting  rock.  It  is  hard  to  see 
clearly  my  way  out  yet;  but  this  one  thing  I 
have  determined.  Not  until  I  can  part  company 
with  that  black  comrade,  feeling  sure  that  he  is 
forever  out  of  my  life,  shall  I  come  back  to  my 
home." 

Keith  could  not  conceal  his  keen  disappoint- 
ment. But  he  felt  that  Mac  was  thoroughly  in 
earnest.  His  decision  was  not  the  sentiment  of 
a  boy,  but  the  conscientious,  fixed  resolve  of  a 
brave,  dauntless  man.  He  could  but  respect  it, 
even  while  deploring  its  necessity.  And  then  a 
new  thought  struck  him.  How  could  he  go  home 
with  such  a  message  to  those  who  were  eagerly 


404  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

waiting  for  sight  of  Mac,  especially  to  Violet, 
whose  frail  life  could  ill  stand  an  added  strain  ? 
His  instant  impulse  was  to  speak  of  her  to  Mac, 
as  a  last  resource.  But  he  shrank  from  this. 

"Well,  Mac,  I  can  say  no  more  now.  You 
have  given  me  many  things  to  think  over.  You 
will  let  me  come  up  here,  will  you  not  \  And  let 
me  say  to  the  friends  below  what  you  have  said 
to  me?  You  surely  cannot  deny  them  the  com- 
fort of  knowing  just  how  you  feel  in  this 
matter." 

At  these  words,  spoken  so  affectionately,  Mac 
broke  down  and  sobbed  brokenly.  Keith  walked 
to  the  window,  noticing  for  the  first  time  the  pot 
of  fragrant  violets,  which  told  its  own  sweet 
story. 

"You  make  rue  feel  like  a  brute,  Mr.  Keith," 
said  Mac,  at  last,  when  he  could  trust  his  voice. 
"It  is  like  pushing  food  from  a  starving  man,  but 
I  can  see  no  other  way — not  yet.  Give  them  all 
my  dear  love  and  tell  them  I  appreciate  their 
heavenly  kindness  with  all  my  heart.  It  helps 
me  more  than  they  can  ever  know." 

When  Keith  reached  home,  he  found  both 
households  assembled  at  Little  Acorns,  waiting 
in  eager  impatience  for  Mac's  arrival.  For  they 
had  never  even  so  much  as  thought  that  he  would 
not  come.  So  it  was  to  a  greatly  disappointed 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  405 

little  group  tluit  Keith  told  every  word,  so  nearly 
as  lie  could  remember,  that  Mac  had  spoken  to 
him. 

"Xoble  fellow!"  cried  Mr.  Standish,  wiping 
his  spectacles.  ''I  declare  I  almost  wish  he 
wasn't  quite  so  noble,  though.  lie's  set  us  all  a 
harder  task  than  he  has  undertaken  himself.  I 
ieel  as  though  a  team  of  wild  horses  wen1  already 
pulling  me  towards  Ainuioiiet  Mountain.  How 
I'm  ever  going  to  keep  away,  I  can't  tell." 

"I'm  not  going  to  try  to  keep  away,"  an- 
nounced Mark.  "I'm  going  right  up  there  as 
fast  as  I  can  and  tell  him  what  I  think  of  such 
air-; !"  and  off  he  went  like  a  shot. 

This  matter-of-fact  cutting  of  the  Gordian 
knot  acted  as  a  signal  for  a  general  expression  of 
opinion,  and  every  one  was  apparently  talking  at 
once  about  the  marvellous  news.  Every  one — 
that  is,  except  Violet,  who  lay  in  her  low  chair, 
quite  silent.  Into  the  midst  of  the  excitement 
presently  came  Doctor  Strong.  He  was  scarcely 
noticed,  and  made  his  quiet  way  to  Violet's 
side. 

"What  has  happened?"  he  asked,  taking  the 
hand  she  extended.  "Am  I  intruding  on  a 
family  conclave?" 

"Oh !  no.  Mae  has  come  home,  and  we  are  all 
so  happy." 


406  The  tfy'lrrxtrr  Qimrnj. 

His  swift  glance  searched  the  groups  scattered 
about  the  long  room. 

"He  is  not  here.  He  is  Peter  Woodman,  Doc- 
tor. Only  think  of  it!  Cousin  "Keith!  Conn- 
and  tell  Doctor  Strong  all  about  Mar,  won't  you  '. 
He  is  one  of  us." 

"Why,  pardon  me,  Doctor,  I  did  not  see  you 
come  in,"  said  Keith  cordially,  shaking  hands 
with  him.  "We  are  all  rather  upset  over  the 
good  news.  I  suppose  you've  heard  about  the 
purchase  of  the  Brooks'  stock  by  our  dear  boy, 
and—" 

But  Doctor  Strong  had  reached  the  limit  of 
his  endurance.  The  beautiful  light  on  Violet's 
face  was  piercing  his  heart.  He  felt  that  he 
must  get  away  from  it. 

"Xo,  I  had  not  heard;  but  I  haven't  a  mo- 
ment to  spare  now.  I'll  be  over  later.  Goodbye, 
Miss  Violet.  Pray  excuse  me." 

Keith  remembered,  in  a  flash,  the  Doctor's 
confidence  in  regard  to  Violet,  and  reali/ed,  all 
too  late,  what  this  return  of  Mac  must  mean  to 
him.  He  walked  with  him  to  the  outer  door. 

"This  means  new  life  for  her,"  Doctor  Strong 
said,  quietly  drawing  on  his  gloves. 

"I  hardly  know7  yet.  Mac  feels  too  unworthy 
to  come  back  to  his  old  place.  He  is  not  sure 
that  his  foe  of  heredity  is  wholly  conquered.  He 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  407 

is  full  of  a  plan  for  going  out  into  the  world  to 
prevent  other  lads  from  falling  as  he  did.  A 
noble  work,  but  he  ought  to  see  his  way  clear  to 
coming  back  to  us,  for  a  while  at  least,  first.  I 
hope  and  pray  he  may." 

It  was  characteristic  of  John  Strong  to  waste 
no  time  when  a  hard  thing  was  to  be  done.  He 
drove  straight  from  Little  Acorns  to  Peter 
\Yn<>dman's  cabin,  praying  all  the  way  as  he  had 
never  prayed  before. 

lie  found  [Mark  with  Mac.  The  two  were  sit- 
ting on  a  chestnut  log,  in  earnest  conversation. 

"Don't  let  me  interrupt  you,"  he  said  courte- 
ously, after  the  first  rather  formal  greetings. 
"I'll  take  a  look  off  across  the  valley." 

It  was  not  long  before  Mac  joined  him. 

"That  is  a  fine  boy,"  he  said.  "Thank  heaven 
he  has  no  Caldwell  blood  in  his  veins." 

"Yes,"  responded  the  Doctor.  "A  fine  clean 
inheritance  is  a  gift  to  be  devoutly  thankful  for ; 
but  a  strength  of  purpose  mighty  enough  to  make 
a  vile  heritage  pure  is  a  possession  worthy  the 
admiration  of  men  and  angels.  I  know  enough 
of  your  story,  Mac,  to  be  very  proud  of  you,  and 
T  want  to  bid  you  God-speed  in  your  noble  self- 
imposed  task  of  helping  others  do  what  you  have 
done  for  yourself,  with  God's  help." 

"It  is  all  God's  work,  Doctor  Strong,"  cried 


408  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

Mac,  brokenly,  more  touched  than  he  cared  to 
show  by  sympathy  from  such  an  unexpected 
quarter. 

"Now,  Mac,  I  have  something  to  say  which  is 
none  of  my  business  as  a  man,  but  near  to  my 
heart  and  to  my  conscience  as  a  physician.  You 
cannot  carry  out  your  plan  of  self-effacement 
here,  and  start  out  on  your  broader  work  without 
going  back  to  your  home,  unless  you  put  in  peril 
the  very  life  of  one  who  is  dear  to — to  us  all." 

Mac,  standing  with  arms  folded  over  his  heart 
as  though  to  quiet  its  tiwnultous  throbbing,  his 
lips  sternly  compressed,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
cross  of  the  chapel,  shining  through  the  tree-tops 
far  below  them,  saw  nothing  of  the  stern  white 
face  beside  him. 

"She  has  nearly  slipped  away  from  us;  she 
can  bear  no  added  burden  of  anxiety  or  suspense. 
If  you  love  her,  boy,  you  must  go  to  her  and  go 
at  once." 

Mac  never  knew  when  he  went  away.  It 
seemed  to  him  as  though  whole  years  of  his  life 
passed  before  he  could  draw  a  deep,  full  breath. 

The  next  morning  he  walked  down  the  moun- 
tain. He  found  Violet  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the 
Little  Acorns  veranda,  with  masses  of  mountain 
laurel  heaped  about  her,  arranging  them  in 
bowls.  The  lovely  blossoms  in  their  pink  beauty 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  409 

were  not  unlike  in  effect  the  roses  which  fell 
about  her  as  she  first  stood  up  to  greet  him  at 
Sylvester  Hall.  lie  thought  of  that  pretty  scene 
as  he  approached  with  noiseless  step  across  the 
lawn.  And  when  she  glanced  up  and  saw  him, 
and  her  face  flushed  with  the  gladness  of  her 
heart,  he  knew  as  never  before  how  much  dearer 
and  sweeter  this  Violet  was  to  him  than  any  one 
else  in  the  whole  world  ever  could  possibly  be. 

"O !  Mac !"  was  all  she  said,  and  his  lips  were 
mute  as  he  held  her  hands  close,  but  the  whole 
>tury  was  told  in  the  look  of  each  into  the  eyes 
of  the  other.  Forgiveness,  love,  and  a  blessed 
oneness  for  the  rest  of  their  lives  were  asked  for 
and  given,  without  a  word. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

JUNE. 

HOW  anybody  c'n  be  livin'  in  this  month 
oMune  'u  not  bo  wantin'  to  sing  th'long- 
moter  doxnlogy  ev'ry  minute  o'  th'  hull  day,  I 
dunno!"  said  Annt  J)iana  one  morning  to  Ber- 
dol.  "It  'pears  to  me  's  if  our  cup  o'  mercies 
was  uiore'n  runuin'  over  full.  Hero  you  be,  first 
'n  foremost,  walkiif  all  round  'n  doin'  little 
lliings  about  th'  house  as  nobody  ever  'sposoil 
you  could  be  'n  gettin'  a  bit  o'  pretty  color  into 
those  white  cheeks  o'  yours.  That's  enough  to 
sing  praises  for  cf  there  wa'nt  nothin'  else. 

"An'  next,  <he  Widder  Van's  a-sendin'  word 
that  she's  goin'  to  stay  over  to  the  other  side  o'  th' 
world  a  spell  longer,  an'  lettin'  me  keep  (Jay, 
which  is  th'  blessingest  o'  all  blessin's  to  me. 
"Fain't  likely,  now,  since  she's  bavin'  some  o" 
them  cousins  o'  hern  move  all  her  things  out  <>' 
that  house,  that  she'll  ever  come  back  into  this 
neighborhood,  'n  some  o'  the  Lord's  creatures 
here  below  feel  called  to  praise  Him  for  that. 
An'  still  I  will  say  that  there's  good  in  that 
flighty  little  spinnin'  Jenny  cf  it  only  bed  a 


Tlic  !<ij!  renter  Quarry.  411 

chance  to  breathe  the  breath  o'  life  'n  wa'nt  all 
buried  up  in  vanity. 

"An'  then,  's  ef  that  wa'nt  enough,  along 
comes  the  blessin'  o'  no  more  liquor  sellin'  up  to 
ih'  Quarry,  'n  the  Hermanns,  madder'n  scat, 
iiiiiviiv  their  fine  new  store  over  th'  mountain  an' 
takiri'  th'  Old  Bov  along  with  'em.  I  shouldn't 
be  'sprised  ef  the  hull  heavenly  hosts  was  a 
joinin'  in  to  the  singin'  o'  praises  for  this  good 
riddance  o'  -bad  rubbish,  snch's  \ve  wouldn't  of 
thought  possil)le  a  year  ago.  That's  one  thing  I 
always  did  admire  about  th'  Lord  from  the  days 
o'  th'  Jebusites  an'  .llittites  up  to  now.  Ho  never 
does  things  by  halves  like  men-folks,  but  smites 
around,  hi])  and  thigh,  when  He  once  sets  out. 

"An'  then,  to  cap  all  this,  that  great  long- 
legged  Mac,  that  used  to  be  so  feather-brained, 
has  turned  up  with  all  the  foolishness  threshed 
out  o'  him.  1  always  did  think  'twould  be  a  pity 
if  he  wasn't  hauled  out  o'  th'  mire  o'  wickedness 
'n  -ct  up  on  th'  rock  o'  Zion  to  dry.  An'  Ins 
com  in'  to  his  senses  has  given  us  back  our  dear 
'Sweet  Violet'  that  Gay  sets  such  store  by." 

Aunt  Diana  paused  in  her  occupation  of  slic- 
ing June  apples  for  a  pie,  and,  looking  cau- 
tiously around,  lowered  her  voice  before  pro- 
ceeding. 

"Have  you  noticed,  Mary  Berdel  ?"'  she  asked. 


412  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

"how  Gay;s  taken  John  B.  under  her  wing  like, 
the  last  three  or  four  weeks  ?  It  seems  's  if  she 
couldn't  let  him  out  o'  her  sight  a  minute  nor  do 
enough  for  him." 

Berclel  nodded.  A  quick  contraction  of  her 
throat  prevented  speech.  She  had  seen  Claret's 
recent  devotion  to  her  brother;  the  instinctive, 
loving  efforts  of  the  child's  sensitive  heart  to  be 
"all  comf'rty"  to  one  who  suffered.  It  was  un- 
usual, and  touching  in  the  extreme  to  the  sister, 
who  knew  as  no  one  else  did  how  hard  it  was 
for  Doctor  Strong  to  get  through  these  beautiful 
days  with  his  wonted  cheerfulness.  Kven  Aunt 
1  Hana  suspected  nothing  of  the  truth. 

"John  B.'s  had  a  look  about  his  eyes  for  sonic 
time  back  that  I  don't  like  to  see.  lie  don't 
know  no  more'n  a  baby  'bout  takin'  care  o'  him- 
self if  he  can  do  so  well  by  other  folks.  I  guess 
I'll  fix  him  up  a  bowl  of  boiicset.  But  ain't  it 
strange  that  a  child  like  Gay  should  be  so 
noticin'  ?  There  she  goes  now,  like  a.  streak. 
You  may  be  sure  she's  heard  his  buggy  wheels." 

Garet  had  rushed  by  the  porch  around  to  the 
front  of  the  house,  a  whirl  of  pink  gingham  and 
flying  hair.  She  had  seen  the  Doctor's  carriage 
far  up  the  road  and  sped  forth  to  meet  him.  lie 
was  quite  used  to  the  sight  of  her  graceful  little 
figure,  ready  to  jump  in  beside  him. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  413 

Sometimes  she  chatted  gaily  of  all  sorts  of 
things ;  sometimes,  as  now,  she  pulled  off  her 
!)ig  shade  hat  and  nestled  up  elose  to  him,  laying 
her  check  against  his  arm  and  not  speaking  a 
word.  After  one  swift  glance  into  his  face  she 
knew  that  this  was  one  of  the  times  "to  be 
silent." 

Just  as  they  turned  into  the  driveway  he 
roused  himself  from  his  abstraction. 

"  You  are  a  sweet  little  comforter,  Garet.  Did 
you  know  that  ?" 

Her  face  grew  radiant  as  she  heard  the  softly- 
spoken  words. 

"O,  I'm  glad !  I  trv  to  be  just  like  a 
grain'thur  to  you.  And  I've  picked  a  saucer  full 
of  the  beautifullest  strawberries  for  you  to  eat 
the  minute  you  came  home.  They're  all  ready 
on  the  dining-room  table.  You'll  come  right  in 
there,  won't  you?" 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer  she  ran  ahead 
to  add  a  glass  of  fresh  water  to  her  dainty 
offering. 

Berdel  saw  the  Doctor's  smile  as  he  came 
around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

"\Yhat  a  rare  child  that  is,"  he  said,  as  he  bent 
to  drop  a  kiss  on  his  sister's  cheek.  "If  I'm  not 
spoiled  between  the  two  of  you,  it  will  be  a 
wonder !': 


414  The  Sylvester  Quarnj. 

"I've  a  great  mind  to  be  jealous  o'  you,  John 
B.,"  remarked  Aunt  Diana,  uas  ever  I  was  to 
eat.  Gay's  beginning'  altogether  too  .soon  to  lie 
down  'n  let  a  man  walk  right  over  her.  Th'  most 
o'  us  wimmeii  folks  come  to  it  sooner  or  later, 
but—" 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  mingled  laughter 
of  her  two  hearers. 

"O!  Aunt  Di!"  began  Berdel,  but  Caret  ap- 
peared. So  the  Doctor  took  her  outstretched 
hand  and  went  in  to  eat  the  strawberries.  As  In- 
passed  Aunt  Di  he  stooped  to  say  roguishly  : 

"I'll  promise  to  walk  very  carefully,  Aunt 
Diana." 

The  lovely  June  days  slipped  by,  one  by  one, 
until  the  fairest  of  them  all  dawned — the  wed- 
ding day  of  Louise  and  Keith. 

.Mac  came  down  early  from  the  mountain 
home,  which  he  had  steadfastly  refused  to  leave, 
to  assist  in  putting  the  last  touches  to  the  deco- 
ration of  the  chapel.  By  ten  o'clock  every  seat 
was  full  and  the  yard  thronged  with  the  Quarry 
people,  while  the  road  down  nearly  to  Little 
Acorns  was  lined  with  men.  women  and  children 
eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  bride  and  their 
loved  pastor. 

As  the  open  carriages  began  coming  slowly  up 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  -ilo 

the  mountain  from  Staiidish  Hall  and  Little 
Acorns,  hats  were  pulled  off  and  many  glances 
and  smiles  of  recognition  exchanged.  But  when 
at  last  one  appeared  whose  occupants  were  Violet 
and  Mac,  with  Garet  and  Hilda  as  little  flower 
hearers  to  walk  before  the  bride,  an  irrepressible 
shout  went  up  along  the  whole  line,  reaching 
even  into  the  chapel  itself.  Cheer  after  cheer, 
prolonged  and  heartfelt,  rang  out  on  the  soft 
summer  a;r.  Hats  were  waved,  handkerchiefs 
fluttered.  At  first.  Violet  looked  about  in  won- 
der, knowing  that  Louise  had  not  left  the  house. 
But  in  an  instant  she  comprehended. 

"It  is  for  you,  dear,"  she  said  to  Mac,  her  own 
eyes  shining. 

"O !  no!"  he  exclaimed  in  protest.  But  he 
could  not  help  seeing  that  it  was  so,  and,  as  white 
i^  the-  roses  piled  upon  his  knees,  hat  in  hand, 
he  bowed  to  the  right  and  left,  seeing  nothing, 
feeling  humiliated  and  ashamed. 

"This  is  dreadful,  Violet.  Can't  it  be 
stopped  ?"  he  murmured. 

"I  don't  see  how,"  was  her  reply,  ''and  I  don't 
want  them  to  stop.  You  deserve  every  bit  of  the 
appreciation  and  love  they  give  you." 

Janet  and  Keith,  already  at  the  chapel,  heard 
the  loud  huzzas. 

"Listen !"  cried  Janet,  stepping  to  the  win- 


416  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

clow.  "O  Keith!  they  are  cheering  Mac! 
See !" 

"That  is  a  fine  thing  for  the  people  to  do, 
Janie,"  he  said.  "It  will  do  Mac  good,  too." 

"It  is  giving  him  an  uncomfortable  quarter  of 
an  hour  now,"  laughed  Janie.  "Modest  boy  that 

K  f.     •       >•>•) 

ne  is : 

Few  who  were  there  ever  forgot  the  beautiful 
scene,  as  the  words  were  spoken  which  united 
forever  two  loving  hearts.  To  Violet  and  .Mac, 
who  stood  side  by  side  before  the  altar,  it  seemed. 
almost  as  though  their  own  troth  were  being 
plighted.  Both  felt  strengthened  by  the  sacred 
service  for  the  long  parting  which  lay  close  be- 
fore them. 

Andy,  his  strong,  rugged  face  alight,  had  eyes 
for  little  else  besides  Mac  and  the  winsome  girl 
beside  him. 

"Thank  tli'  dear  Lord  that  He's  saved  th'  lad 
a  longer  time  o'  darkness,"  he  was  saying  over 
and  over  to  himself.  "Praise  to  His  holy  name 
that  th'  curse  is  gone  frae  our  village." 

When  his  turn  came  to  speak  to  the  bride  and 
groom  words  failed  him,  and  he  could  only 
repeat  Aunt  Diana's  ascription  : 

"Praise  God,  from  whom  all  mercies  Row." 

"We  surely  do,  Andy,"  Keith  answered 
heartily,  grasping  both  the  Scotchman's  hands. 


The  Sylvester  Quarry.  417 

The  little  word  "we"  brought  to  the  rather  over- 
whelmed Andy  a  realization  of  the  occasion. 

"I  do  wish  you  both  a  long  life  fu'  o'  joy  'n 
blessin',"  he  said  then,  taking  the  hand  Louise 
extended.  "Ye  ken  that  I'm  a  bit  daft  wi'  a'  th' 
happeni  n'." 

"We'll  forgive  you/'  laughed  Louise,  taking 
pity  on  his  evident  embarrassment,  "as  it  is  on 
Mac's  account.  We  know  that  we  have  no  more 
loyal  friend  than  Andrew  Graham." 

"An'  then  you  spoke  as  true  a  word  as  Gospel, 
Miss  Louise,"  returned  Andy.  His  glance  had 
strayed  away  from  her  toward  Mac  and  Violet. 
"Is  it  nae  a  bonnie  sicht  tae  see  th'  twa  o'  them 
togither  ?"  ho  said.  "Th'  dear  Lord  spare  them 
as  well  as  yoursels  for  many  a  long  year  to  be  a 
blessin'  to  th'  world." 

"Amen,"  murmured  Keith. 

It  was  but  a  few  days  after  this  that  Mac- 
closed  Peter  Woodman's  cabin  arid  came  down 
to  spend  the  last  hours  with  Jeanie  and  Violet 
before  going  to  his  chosen  work  at  Keith's  old 
Walnut  Hill  Mission  in  Philadelphia. 

"I've  changed  my  mind  about  Doctor  Strong, 
Violet,"  he  said,  as  they  were  sitting  on  the 
veranda  at  Little  Acorns.  "He  is  a  fine  fellow, 
now  that  I  know  he's  not  in  love  with  you.  I 
was  over  there  this  morning  to  bid  him  good-bye 


418  The  Sylvester  Quarry. 

and  to  thank  him  for  all  his  goodness  to  you. 
And  I  asked  him  to  look  after  you  until  I  come 
back;  for  you  know,  dear,  it  may  be  a  good 
while.  I  shall  feel  so  safe  to  know  that  there  is 
a  good  physician  near  at  hand." 

"But  I'm  not  going  to  be  ill  again,  Mac." 

"Heaven  grant  it.  You  surely  will  never 
have  the  same  cause,  God  helping  me.  It  is 
going  to  be  a  fight  for  a  long  while  yet,  though. 
O  Violet !  hard  as  it  is  to  leave  you,  I  feel  eager 
to  be  at  work,  doing  all  I  can,  with  my  whole 
heart  and  strength  to  battle  against  this  dreadful 
thing  in  people's  lives." 

"I  wish  there  was  something  I,  too,  could  be 
doing,"  said  Violet,  wistfully. 

"You  do  everything,  dear,  by  letting  me  love 
you,  and  by  your  promise  to  let  me  bring  you, 
some  blessed  day,  all  in  God's  own  good  time,  to 
be  my  true  helpmeet,  my  joy,  my  very  life,"  was 
Mac's  instant  response,  spoken  with  such  tender- 
ness that  the  rare  tears  filled  Violet's  eyes.  She 
slipped  her  hand  in  his  and  they  sat  silent  while 
the  twilight  shadows  fell  softly  about  them. 


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